Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery
by Matt of Ravenclaw
Summary: A re-make of Goblet of Fire, Harry and Hermione meet a mysterious Ravenclaw seemingly forgotten from history. Together, the three will face a threat that could destroy all of reality!
1. Salazar's Fascinations

Disclaimer: Alright! First things first, there is no chance in hell that I own Harry Potter. If I did, why do you think I would be writing about it for free? However, if the good J.K. Rowling is looking for a substitute writer, I will be more than happy to place my own input into her work (particularly if she wants to share some of the royalties!).  
  
Anyway, this is the first of a fifteen-chapter series concerning Harry's fourth year. I know that you've already seen a version of this, but this is my take on it. I apologize if it seems pretty confusing now, but I want to put all my eggs in one basket and work with a group of characters that don't often get mentioned in the Harry Potter universe. Allow me to assure that this story about Harry Potter will be centered on Harry Potter in Chapter 2. Until then, I hope you enjoy.  
  
Chapter 1: Salazar's Fascinations  
  
'To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'  
  
"What a load of rubbish," Rowena Ravenclaw grumbled to no one in particular. She ran a fine hand  
  
through her raven-black hair as she sifted through the pages of her own book. The book was chock-full of  
  
inspirational messages and words of wisdom that she had gathered and put to words during her brief time in  
  
the land of the living. At the time, she considered it to be her greatest work, something that she could be  
  
proud of and hold her head high. Now, she found it to be a somewhat simple form of amusement.  
  
'Ah, the wonders and revelations that death can bring,' she thought with a lop-sided grin. Closing her  
  
magnum opus, Rowena rose from her wooden chair and started to make her daily trek through the various  
  
realms of the afterlife. After all, she had appointments to keep today, and she wasn't one to leave an acquaintance waiting.  
  
'These spirits may believe that they have all the time in the world,' Rowena thought as she rushed about, 'but I've got a lot of things to do.'  
  
She had a brief, yet evocative, debate with Socrates over the role of the judicial system in an organized society. Rowena usually enjoyed debating with the renowned Greek philosopher, although she would grow annoyed with his persistent air of superiority. After chatting a bit with Merlin and Sigmund Freud ('What an odd pair,' Rowena thought), she rushed to reach her first destination of the day.  
  
Her senses were violently assaulted with the smell of rich lager and the sound of horrendous off-key voices singing far too loud for her liking. When she entered the impressive pub, the bartender, a rather large and merry fellow, gave her a kind smile and a hasty wave of his hand. As she returned the gesture of the kindly barkeep, she spotted the person she was to meet. Making sure that she wasn't spotted herself, Rowena quickly walked towards the bar and ordered a lager. As the red-faced bartender turned his back to prepare the drink, Rowena's eyes drifted back to her future destination.  
  
There were three men at the table, all large, burly, and dressed as if war was at their walls. However, that is where the similarities ended. One of the men, a black-haired fellow with light-brown skin, held a disdained look upon his face, as if he loathed being there. The second man, a rather regal-looking, fair-haired gentleman, had a jolly look on his face that seemed awfully contagious. However, it was the third member of this group that Rowena Ravenclaw was particularly interested in. He had emerald-green eyes that seemed to glimmer with merriment. His long, scarlet-red hair shined within the pub's dim firelight. His loud, bawdy voice was booming throughout the already noisy environment as if it strained to dominate everything within it. With a shake of her head, Rowena took a deep breath, slowly grabbed her lager, thanked the bartender, and made her way towards the unlikely trio. The red-haired gentleman was the first to spot her.  
  
"Oi, gentlemen! Here is the lovely bookworm, Rowena Ravenclaw," Godric Gryffindor shouted with great aplomb. "We should be honored to receive her presence this fine afternoon," he shouted further after taking a long drink from his bottle of wine.  
  
"Hear, hear, kind Godric!" the fair-haired gentleman said while turning to lock Rowena's black eyes with his sky-blue ones. "I am always appreciative with the company of a beautiful lady."  
  
"I am here because you asked me to be here, Godric," Rowena said calmly as she resisted the temptation to hex the blonde-haired gentleman. "If you interrupted my studies only so I could join you in your aimless carousing, then I'll be more than happy to take my leave." With that comment, Gryffindor calmly waved his left hand and beckoned for Rowena to sit down. After a brief bit of hesitation, she relented.  
  
"Before we move on to business, allow me to introduce the rest of my company," Godric said. He made a quick gesture to the surly brown-skinned fellow. "This kindly fellow sitting here goes by the name of Temujin, but you'll probably know him better as Genghis Khan." Rowena gave a brief nod to the general behind the Mongol Empire, to which he gave a brief nod in return. "And, this lively fellow is Alexander." Godric said while pointing to the fair-haired gentleman.  
  
"Alexander the Great," the gentleman said as he offered to kiss Rowena's hand. She inwardly shuddered at the idea, but she accepted the offer out of courtesy.  
  
"We were discussing Alexander's conquest of Persia before your timely arrival," Godric said as he smiled at Rowena's look of disgust. "However, I highly doubt that you would like to speak of such things now would you, Rowena?" Rowena instantly grew angry at Godric's depreciatory tone.  
  
"Oh heavens no, Sir Godric!" Rowena cried while she mockingly threw her fine hands to her cheeks in a false sense of dismay. "It is clear that a woman could not possibly understand the intricacies of such fine military strategy. After all, you were such a great strategist yourself, good sir! I have always admired your strategy regarding your magnificent display against Faust's army at Briar's Hollow." Godric blanched at the mention of his long-time enemy and the site of what was his greatest military failure. Alexander howled with laughter at Godric's horrified expression and Temujin raised his eyebrows in appreciation of taking the wind out of the wizard's sails.  
  
"However," Rowena continued, "I understand that Faust's defeat came at the hands of another magician. A witch, if memory serves. She was a bright young lady. I believe her name was Rowena. . ."  
  
"Yes, yes," Godric sputtered in a desperate attempt to regain control of the conversation. "Well, enough talk about the field of battle. Let us go on with our business!" The old confidence was now back in his words and his bright, green eyes.  
  
"And what is this business?" Rowena asked while placing her half- empty lager on the table. It took a while for Godric to continue on. Godric's left index finger swirled through the contents of his wine glass as he seemed to struggle to produce what he wanted to say.  
  
"It concerns Salazar," Godric said finally.  
  
Salazar was Salazar Slytherin. Along with the assistance of herself, Godric, and Helga Hufflepuff, he had constructed the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after many years of toil and battle with the dark wizard Faust to build an institution devoted to teaching young wizards and witches the skills they need to prevent the future rise of people such as Faust. They divided the school into four different houses, each of which named after themselves, and they made a Sorting Hat to place the students into the house that best suited them: Gryffindor for the brave of heart, Hufflepuff for the loyal and unafraid of toil, Ravenclaw for the wise, and Slytherin for those with the lust for power. Salazar never fully agreed with the policies they constructed and was the first to break away from the school. She had quickly followed suit while Helga and Godric remained with the school until their dying days. She was the only one to keep ties with Slytherin in the afterlife so Rowena couldn't help but presume that was the reason that Godric had called her instead of Helga.  
  
'Typical Godric,' Rowena muttered in disgust, 'pawning off your duties just because you don't have the stomach.'  
  
"What about him?" Rowena asked calmly.  
  
"Salazar has been spending an. . . unhealthy. . . amount of time within the Hall of Time," Godric went on. "I was hoping that you would speak to him in order to find out why."  
  
"Where Salazar chooses to spend his time is his own business," Rowena said, maintaining her calm façade.  
  
"Yes, but if Salazar wishes to interfere with the rightful passage of time, then it is our business," Godric said.  
  
"He is merely observing," Rowena said as she rolled her eyes in frustration, "your mistrust of him is grossly unjustified. However, if you are so convinced that Salazar's activities are detrimental, then I will speak with him."  
  
"Excellent!" Godric cried as if he had won a great battle. "I'm certain that you will take care of this matter directly, Madam?"  
  
"Yes," Rowena said as she gritted her teeth in frustration ("The nerve of this man!"). Rowena gave a brief stare at her still half-full drink and then hastily rose from her seat and gave a brief goodbye to Temujin and Alexander. After a friendly goodbye to the bartender, Rowena strolled out from the dirty pub and made her way for the Hall of Time. She was tempted to apparate out of a desire to try to maintain her schedule, but a combination of wishing to see the sights and her anger towards Godric convinced her otherwise.  
  
Rowena had always marveled at all the intricacies of the afterlife. Simply put, there was something for everybody. Vast debate halls were next to brothels, playhouses were next to bars, and libraries were next to casinos. There was green grass, train tracks, dirt paths, and gravel roads throughout the "landscape." It was a composite of the wishes and desires of all the souls that now took up residence there.  
  
"It's also an urban developer's worst nightmare," Rowena said to herself with a smile.  
  
Rowena ceased her introspection once she arrived at the Hall of Time. She was greeted with the appearance of ivory columns and grand fountains that seemed to spring to the sky. To say that it was a grand structure would be a ridiculous understatement. The best Terran equivalent that Rowena could think of was the great Library of Alexandria. However, the documents here were worth far greater value than anything ever placed in Alexandria. For within the Hall of Time lay the records of history throughout countless realities concerning the past, present, and future. The Hall of Time also held devices that could alter the history of certain realities and even cause the destruction of time itself, though Rowena believed that no one would be foolish enough to attempt such a fruitless endeavor.  
  
Most importantly for Rowena, however, was that the Hall of Time, was where Salazar Slytherin currently made his home. And, the sooner that she could take care of this frivolous task the sooner she could go on to more beneficial activities. Thus, after taking in a breath of the fresh air, Rowena marched towards the Hall of Time. Once she arrived at the doorway, she was greeted by a tiny fellow wearing a large turban and sporting a gap- toothed grin.  
  
"Is Salazar Slytherin here?" Rowena asked with a polite smile.  
  
"Yes, Madam Ravenclaw. I believe he is expecting you. Come right this way." After being taken aback by the little man's statement, she quickly followed the kindly doorman. After an exhausting trek down seemingly endless staircases and numerous dank reading rooms occupied by numerous scholars and historians, they had arrived at the study of Salazar Slytherin. He was a short, thin man with dark black hair and an eager look in his eyes. His attention seemed to be completely focused within a book that even Rowena couldn't identify. However, when the tiny man loudly cleared his throat, Salazar looked up swiftly in surprise as if he hadn't had a visitor in years.  
  
"A Miss Rowena Ravenclaw is here to see you sir," the doorman said with a practiced tone of indifference. Despite the lack of emotion from his assistant, Salazar's thin, sallow face quickly brightened and a great smile formed as he rushed to greet his old confidante. Rowena, pleased that she was finally in the company of a person who was glad to see her, gave a bright smile towards her old friend and rushed to embrace him. When the embrace ceased, Rowena stepped back from Salazar and gave the wizard a sour grin.  
  
"You're looking pale, old friend, even in posthumous standards. Perhaps you should spend less time locked away in the Hall of Time and more time enjoying the other wonders of the afterlife."  
  
"Ha!" Slytherin shouted in mock outrage. "As if you are one to speak of such things! Anyway, the fruits of my labor here are far greater than I could ever achieve anywhere else." After saying this, Slytherin quickly marched to his desk and closed the book that he had been previously so fascinated about. Spotting his old friend's hesitation in returning his comment, Slytherin continued on. "Which, most likely, leads to your being here, does it not, old friend?"  
  
"Indeed it does, Salazar," Rowena said with a resigned sigh. "I am here on behalf of Godric to learn of your intentions here." At this statement, Slytherin gave a derisive snort as he once again turned his back to her.  
  
"Intentions? My intention is to learn and nothing more. Is he still accusing me of starting this Voldemort nonsense?"  
  
"It's hardly nonsense, Salazar," Rowena said soberly, "the effect that Tom Riddle has had within many realities has been catastrophic. Godric believes that his claims to be the Heir of Slytherin are true."  
  
"Heir of Slytherin?!" Slytherin said as he twisted his face in outrage and paced around the room. "Honestly! I would never make such a foolish wizard my heir."  
  
"Be that as it may, Salazar. Helga fears that Riddle may be only the tip of the iceberg." At this, Slytherin's pacing abruptly ceased and he made a slow return to his desk.  
  
"Our good friend has every right to be fearful," Slytherin said calmly. Rowena's eyes were wide with shock.  
  
"Then the rumors are true?"  
  
"Indeed they are, Rowena," Slytherin said with a hard smile. He carefully walked towards a small bookcase and pulled a rather large book out. Although the cover of the book was all black, a white field of energy surrounded the book and gave it a truly bizarre appearance. "However, the danger lies only within a single reality."  
  
"How is such a thing even possible, Salazar?" Rowena asked, her voice mixed with a potent combination of fear, excitement, and incredulity. As she continued to stare at the book, Slytherin pulled up two chairs for them to sit in and he gently handed the book to his old friend.  
  
"According to this text, the rise of this great evil is said to occur only within this reality in the year of 2003. Upon further research, I've determined that this evil could only be defeated by the efforts of three individuals, all of whom are attending Hogwarts at that time."  
  
"And who are these people?" Rowena asked. Instead of answering the question, Slytherin takes the book from her grasp and quickly turns the pages until he arrives at the picture of three people. The first person was a young lady with chocolate-brown eyes and bushy, brown hair. She had a bemused look on her face as she observed the childish antics of the two boys in the picture with her. One of the boys had bright emerald eyes and had black hair that seemed to wait to shoot for the sky. However, what truly enticed Rowena to the young man was a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.  
  
"Yes, Rowena," Slytherin said, answering her question before she even asked it, "this young man survived the Avada Kedavra curse when he was only a baby. The young lady may quite possibly be the brightest witch that I have ever laid eyes upon." Rowena, always an admirer of an intelligent magician, and a witch at that, smiled again at the picture of the young lady. Rowena chuckled at the antics of the two boys, who were playfully fighting one another for the camera.  
  
"What are their names, Salazar?"  
  
"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Matthew Mcgonagall."  
  
Whew! That was some heavy stuff, don't you think? I apologize for getting out of hand, but I really wanted to get "the big picture" wrapped up before I started in on the little picture. Reviewing is greatly appreciated and flames are as equally appreciated as compliments. After all, how am I going to get better if I don't know what I'm doing wrong? Oops! I forgot my chapter preview!  
  
Chapter 2: A Twist in Time  
  
Well, now that I've introduced the three main characters, it's high time that I bring them together! In the next chapter, we'll break away from the after-life and head down to Hogwarts. Until then, I'll see you next Thursday! 


	2. A Twist in Time

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the 2nd part of this lil' 15-parter. If you're still reading, then I must presume you got past Chapter 1, so you deserve a hearty slap on the back. I'd be happy to do so, but you don't know where I've been. Oh, yeah! I knew I was forgetting something!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and it seems that she doesn't want to give it back any time soon. As said before, this story is a variation of The Goblet of Fire.  
  
Well, enjoy!  
  
Chapter 2- A Twist in Time  
  
Gryffindor Common Room, November 24, 2000. 10:47 P.M.  
  
The Gryffindor Common Room was a scene of mass celebration and many of the Gryffindors had a number of reasons to celebrate. The Gryffindors had watched their own Harry Potter pass the first task of the Triwizard Tournament with flying colors, despite the efforts of a fiercely protective Hungarian Horntail and the biased behavior of Igor Karkaroff. No one basked in the glow more than fourth-year Ronald Weasley, whom Harry had made up with soon after the dangerous task. He was giving a tremendously dramatic replay of his best friend's efforts to anyone who would pay attention to him. Meanwhile, Fred and George Weasley, Ron's twin older brothers, were looking for one of the few Gryffindors that had not fallen victim to one of their numerous pranks. In fact, there were only two students that weren't caught up in the celebration: the two students responsible for the victory itself, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.  
  
Harry had his back to the entire party. He was sitting in an absurdly large armchair that he thought was far too comfortable. Except for the occasional chatting with Ron and a visit from Katie Bell, a teammate on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he had remained silent throughout the evening. He stared at the fire, the embers seeming to dance about in his emerald- green eyes, as he did some hard thinking. He silently fretted about the safety of his godfather, Sirius Black, who could be caught by the Ministry of Magic at any time only because he wanted to watch over Harry. Then there were the two Slytherins, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, two people who now seemed to go out of their way to make him feel miserable. He remembered the roar of the dragon and the awful sneer on Karkaroff's face when he stared at Harry shortly after the task.  
  
And then there was Alastor Moody. Although Harry was appreciative of Moody's efforts in helping him for the fight against the dragon, he still his doubts about the old Auror. The horrid day in which he displayed the three unforgiven curses still remained very clear in his mind. Though Harry respected the man, Moody also, quite frankly, scared the shit out of him.  
  
"Evening, Mr. Potter! Can I have your autograph?"  
  
Harry couldn't figure out what was more amusing: the sheer idiocy of the notion (to him) or the person who requested it. She was a young lady with bushy, brown hair and deep, brown eyes. She was holding a rather large Arithmancy book in her deceptively strong arms as she waited for Harry to respond, a playful smile on her lips throughout it all.  
  
"Afraid you'll have to get in line, Hermione." Harry said glumly.  
  
"Oh, rubbish! I'll do what I want to do, thank you very much." Hermione said with an air of confidence as she took a seat on the floor near Harry's chair. She placed her book down with a thump and softly rubbed Harry's kneecaps with her small, but strong, hands. Harry gave a small grin at his friend's tender ministrations and abandoned the armchair to join his friend on the floor.  
  
"What are you thinking about, Mr. Potter?" she asked.  
  
"Quite a few things, actually. Sirius, Malfoy, Karkaroff. My mind's a mess right now."  
  
"Go talk to Ron then. I always find that speaking with our dear friend will always make you feel better about your own intellectual acumen." Harry and Hermione chuckled as they watched Ron try to wrangle a date with Lavender Brown. Although they both sincerely cared for the boisterous redhead, they also knew that Ron could be better off with a little personal tact. As they watched Ron's eventual failure, Fred and George stopped by to say hello and offer Hermione a treacle tart. Hermione looked at them as if she thought they were insane.  
  
"Come on, Hermione!" Fred said with a huge grin on his face. "We haven't done anything to them!"  
  
"The fact that you've touched them is enough to tell me that they're not safe," Hermione said crossly as Harry looked on with a lopsided grin. Since the very first days of their time at Hogwarts, Hermione had acquired a reputation in the Gryffindor house for being a stick-in-the-mud. Although she and Harry had their occasional clashes during their first year, Harry was now one of the few Gryffindors who didn't hold it against her. Of course, the fact that Harry was strongly supportive of Hermione's reluctance to sample some of the Weasley's twins culinary delights didn't hurt either.  
  
"Just where did you get this food, anyway?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing in a manner that was eerily similar to Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"Don't worry, Mum," George said with an impish twinkle in his eyes, "we just got them from the house elves."  
  
"Right helpful, those elves," Fred said as he bent his knees and scrunched up his face. "Anything I can get for you, young master? Anything at all?" he said, impersonating one of Hogwarts' many elves. "I'd bet they'd fix me a roasted ham if I said as I was feeling peckish!"  
  
Hermione's disgust of the treatment that house elves were given at Hogwarts was also well known throughout the Gryffindor common hall. Harry wholly believed that Hermione would have something to say to Fred's quite derogatory remarks. Instead, he was quite surprised to notice a gleam of inspiration in Hermione's chocolate-brown eyes.  
  
This isn't good, Harry thought with a smile.  
  
"Um, Fred. . ." Hermione said calmly, "just where are the kitchens?"  
  
"Well, go down to the second basement, go to the third painting on the left and. . ." George abruptly paused, "are you still working on that SPEW thing?"  
  
"It is not S.P.E.W!" Hermione whispered, her face scrunching up angrily, "it's the House-Elf Liberation Front! And no, I am not working on it, I just want to know where the kitchen is!"  
  
"Whatever." Fred said with a dismissing wave of his hands. "Go down to the second basement, go to the third painting on the left and tickle the pear. It'll laugh and you'll go straight in."  
  
"Want a treacle tart, Harry?" George asked.  
  
"Thanks but no thanks, George." Harry replied.  
  
"What did I tell you Fred, you dumb bloke," George said to his twin brother, "I told you this wasn't going to work!" Harry and Hermione watched on as Fred and George quickly walked away from them, arguing like angry geese.  
  
"I think I'm going to get a little fresh air, Hermione." Harry said while rising to his feet and offering Hermione to help her up.  
  
"Alright, Harry," Hermione said as she accepted Harry's offer, rising quickly to her feet. "Do you want me to come with you?"  
  
"No. I'll be okay, just make sure Ron doesn't make a fool out of himself." Hermione snorted at that comment as she once again caught sight of Ron, who was now pestering his little sister, Ginny.  
  
"I'll do what I can." Hermione said flatly, a wry smile on her face. "Just watch out for Filch and Snape."  
  
"Of course," Harry said as he moved to the Boy's Dorm to grab his father's invisibility cloak. After carefully wrapping it around his body, Harry quietly moved through the common room, making certain not to startle anyone in the crowded area. Hermione awaited him at the portrait of the Fat Lady and opened the door for him and he made a swift exit from his own party with only one person knowing that he was gone.  
  
Harry was always amazed with the sound of his bare feet tapping against the marble floors and lush carpeting of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To Harry, Hogwarts was a place of both education and exploration, and he always enjoyed exploring the gigantic, dark hallways of the mysterious school. They were such a far cry from his cramped cupboard back at Privet Drive. From the moving stairways to the talking portraits to its many colorful residents, both living and posthumous, Harry simply couldn't get enough of the school and was making every effort to explore as much of it as he can, with or without Ron and Hermione. In this case, Harry wished to visit the owlery to check up on Hedwig, his snow-white owl that he received from Hagrid for his eleventh birthday.  
  
As he slowly rounded the corner that led to the front doors of the school, Harry suddenly felt the need to run. He needed to get away. As his bare feet pounded on the padded carpeting of the great hall, Harry's mind drifted to many things. He thought of Peter Pettigrew, the man who sold out his parents to Voldemort. Then his mind's eye saw Severus Snape, the man who obviously had a past with Voldemort but Harry had no idea what it was. Then it was Voldemort. He could see the blood-red eyes, he could smell the fear of the wizards who dared to get in his way or the innocents who simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time, he could taste his desire to return to power, he could hear his icy laugh. . .  
  
"WHOOF!"  
  
It took a brief moment for Harry to register that he had run into something, mainly because his eyes told him that there seemed to be nothing to run into. As he tumbled to the ground, his light grip on his invisibility cloak snapped, causing his messy, black hair to pop up for anyone to see. He shook his head slowly, trying desperately to refocus his eyes and stand up. Once that was done, Harry was quite shocked to find another young man in a similar condition. The boy was running a hand through his unkempt, brown hair and his hazel eyes were looking directly back at Harry. He seemed to be just as tall as Ron, but his arms and legs seemed to give him a stockier form.  
  
"Yowch! Didn't see that one coming," the stranger said, gingerly rubbing his forehead and lifting himself to his feet. "I knew I should have stayed in the common room to do this!"  
  
Harry was still a little shell-shocked from the crash, so it took him quite a while longer to determine that something about this situation was a little weird. Finally, after a bit of internal questioning, his voice asked what his brain wanted to know.  
  
"Were you just invisible?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.  
  
"Yep," the brown-haired boy said with a roguish smile on his face.  
  
"You don't have a cloak?" Harry asked while reaching backward to pick up his own cloak. At that question, the boy's smile grew even wider and his hazel eyes seemed to twinkle with excitement.  
  
"Can't say I have," he said, as he procured an empty flask from a pocket in his robes. "I decided to test out my new invisibility potion. Guess I'll need to work on it a bit, don't you think?"  
  
"But, aren't those potions illegal at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, a skeptical look on his face.  
  
'Speaking as if you were just the picture of all innocence, Harry?' a little voice that sounded remarkably like Hermione said in his head.  
  
"That's never stopped me before," the boy said shrugging his shoulders. "By the way, my name's Matt MacDougal," he said while extending his hand in an absurdly aggrandizing fashion.  
  
"Harry Potter," he said, shaking Matt's hand calmly, acting as if two invisible people running into one another happened all the time. At the name, Matt's eyes flashed with recognition. Harry always hated it when this happens!  
  
"Oh, so you're the guy who set off dungbombs in Draco Malfoy's cauldron before Potions in third year!" he said with a broad grin. "The originality of your work is simply awe-inspiring!" he said with great aplomb.  
  
Harry's jaw felt like it almost hit the floor.  
  
"Well," Harry said, an equally large grin creeping up on his face, "That's not what I'm usually remembered for doing, but thank you nonetheless."  
  
"No problem," Matt said with an eager grin. Matt then began to stare with interest at Harry's invisibility cloak. "So this is an invisibility cloak, huh?" Matt asked, pointing to the silvery cloth. "I've never seen one myself before."  
  
"Yes, it's my father's." Harry said. 'Why am I telling him this,' Harry thought. After all, the invisibility cloak was a secret that he had kept hidden from all but his closest friends. He just met this guy! "What house are you from?" he asked, eager to change the subject.  
  
"Ravenclaw, fourth year," he said, "and you're a Gryffindor, right?"  
  
Harry nodded. He was about to ask another question, but then he heard a sound that nearly froze his insides. It was the soft mewling that Harry knew all too well. His eyes grew as wide as saucers when he locked eyes with Filch's infamous partner-in-crime, Mrs. Norris. The cat's shining pale-green eyes seemed to be locked onto their conversation. She was sitting patiently on her hind legs, as though she was waiting patiently for something. Noticing Harry's distress, Matt looked behind him to find out what was causing the trouble, but then gave the Gryffindor a reassuring smile.  
  
"Don't worry about her, Harry," Matt said with a confident air. "She's a friend of mine," he said as he turned to the little cat and whistled softly to her. Harry's eyes never left Mrs. Norris as she eagerly accepted Matt's invitation, walking briskly towards the mischievous Ravenclaw. Upon her arrival, Matt knelt back down to scratch Mrs. Norris behind her ears and back.  
  
"She may seem mean at first," Matt said, as he continued petting the tiny cat, "but she's a sweetie at heart, aren't you little lady?" Mrs. Norris only gave a soft purr in reply. Continuing to scratch behind the cat's ears, Matt looked back to Harry.  
  
"Well, it's always nice to meet a fellow night walker," Matt said with a grin, "I'll have to look you up tomorrow in the Great Hall. I plan on making a big entrance. Wanna have breakfast together?"  
  
"All right," Harry said with a grin, still shocked (and a bit impressed) at Mrs. Norris quick compliance towards the young man. "I suppose I'll see you then, Matt," he said, once again extending his hand for Matt to shake. "And what do you mean by 'big entrance'?"  
  
"You'll find out," Matt said, a mischievous grin on his face, "I think you'll enjoy it. See ya, night walker!"  
  
Shaking his head, Harry donned his invincibility cloak as he watched the young man turn away and walk swiftly back to the Ravenclaw common room. Mrs. Norris, realizing that she would be petted no longer, gave a harsh glance in Harry's direction before returning to her never-ending search for juvenile troublemakers. Harry, on the other hand, stood rooted to the spot while he pondered over what the hell had just happened. After a bit of contemplation, Harry turned around and walked briskly back to the Gryffindor common room, his ideas of Voldemort and visiting Hedwig long forgotten.  
  
Harry was also unaware that another figure had been a spectator to the conversation; a figure that did not make himself known until well after both Harry and Matt had fallen asleep. His long, white beard seemed to shine with the diffused moonlight coming through the windows of the Great Hall. He slowly walked toward the center of the Great Hall where the conversation between two complete strangers took place. He cocked his head to the left towards the Gryffindor common room and then turned to the right towards the Ravenclaw common room. He was the only person in Hogwarts who could grasp the magnitude of what had just occurred.  
  
"Interesting," Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, said with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
Little Hangleton- One kilometer southeast of the Riddle home. November 24, 2000. 10:47 P.M.  
  
If there was one thing that Peter Pettigrew knew about, it was death.  
  
After all, he had quite a bit of experience within the field.  
  
Two of his old friends, James and Lily Potter, had been killed by Voldemort because he was too damn weak. Peter himself was thought to be dead at the hands of another old friend, Sirius Black, who went to Azkaban for the crime. Peter's mother and father, distraught over his "death" died soon after. He had been to his own funeral and he saw the haunted eyes of another old friend, Remus Lupin. He looked as though he had lost everything he knew in a single night. As the years went on, he saw so many witches and wizards die due to either their own bravery, stupidity, greed, or a convoluted combination of the three. Now, over 13 years later after James and Lily's death, the event that sent his life upside down, he was currently working for an undead sorcerer and was preparing a funeral plot for a Muggle who, a short three months ago, was killed simply because he was doing his job.  
  
'Yep,' Peter mused with a hard smile on his face, 'I know about death very well.'  
  
Trying his best to avoid his own busy thoughts, he grunted with effort as he slowly pushed the wooden casket that held the body of Frank Bryce ('At least I know his name' Peter thought sardonically) toward the neatly made pit. All Peter knew about the man was that he had been there when Tom Riddle was born, and that's more information than he usually knew about the people he killed under Voldemort's service. Although he was hardly in the position, economically or physically, to create a lavish funeral for the man, Peter took some time to clean up the poor man and preparing the grave properly. The scent of formaldehyde was still quite strong in his head, much to his dismay.  
  
'It's the least I could do,' he thought as he finally succeeded in lugging the heavy casket to the funeral plot and gently pushed it in. Then, after running his small hands through his thinning, brown-blond hair to be rid of the sweat pouring down his brow, Peter stood up slowly. Grabbing a rusty shovel he had found in Bryce's own tool shed, he began to dig. The cool, winter air seemed to strike at him viciously as he shoveled mound after mound of dirt onto the cracked casket. Once the plot was half- filled with harsh, black sediment, Peter stopped to think of something that Dumbledore once said to him. It was days before James and Lily's fatal encounter with Voldemort and the old wizard had stopped at his home to speak with him. Peter had just agreed to be James and Lily's "secret keeper," the first and best line of defense against Voldemort.  
  
"I feel the strain that your heart and soul is undergoing, Peter," Dumbledore said, his bright eyes seemingly holding Peter in place. "However, you must always remember that in order to achieve our dreams, we must lose a bit of ourselves."  
  
Peter laughed bitterly upon remembering the statement and the cruel irony held within it. Two of his dearest friends were dead, another one hated him while the other one wanted him dead. He had no friends, no family, and had nothing to call his own. His life was nothing more than feelings of fear, pain, self-pity, and nostalgia for a better time.  
  
The end justifies the means?  
  
Bullshit.  
  
However, just as he had made a small grave for Frank Bryce, Peter Pettigrew had made his own place in the world, and he was determined to see that through. With that final thought, Peter gave a slight nod of courtesy to Frank Bryce's gravestone and began the slow walk back towards the Riddle house. His master would be waiting upon his arrival. For all his amazing gifts and capabilities, Voldemort would still need food and information. Information about Harry Potter.  
  
Harry. . .  
  
Peter had been there to watch the first task, to watch Harry take on the dragon. He truly had inherited his father's flying skills. As Harry tried to egg the fierce female dragon into the air, he could just imagine James looking with pride towards his son, wishing he could be up there. He imagined Lily, excited and panicky, praying that her little boy would be safe but silently cheering him on. Then there was Remus, hale and hearty as he could have ever hoped to be, not the pale and sickly soul that greeted him at the Shrieking Shack so many months ago. Then, there was he and Sirius, his godfather and his "uncle", cheering on Harry madly. Sirius would pour some popcorn on his head while Sirius thought he wasn't looking. James and Remus would laugh and Lily would give him a tender chuckle and rub her small hands through his sandy-blond hair.  
  
They were together, as they should have been, a family until the end.  
  
'A family,' Peter thought wistfully as he disappeared into the fog, leaving Frank Bryce to rest in peace.  
  
Well, thank you for reading another installment of Harry Potter and the Scholar of Mystery. Just remember that reading is a good thing, but reading and reviewing is even better. I have nothing against flames either for that matter. Heaven knows I could do with a little constructive criticism. Oh, yeah, and here's the chapter three preview.  
  
What exactly did Matthew mean by an interesting entrance? What do Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort have planned for Harry now that he passed the first task? And how are Matt and Hermione going to fit into it? Just what the hell makes Matt so special? Who really is the last of the Mohicans? How should I know! I'm just a writer. Anyway, find out the answers to some of these questions in the next installment of Harry Potter and the Scholar of Mystery: Strange Connections!  
  
See you next time! 


	3. Strange Connections

Hello! Thank you for gracing me with your time and patience, everyone. Now, for what about two people have been waiting for. . . the third chapter for Harry Potter and the Scholar of Mystery. But first, a friendly little disclaimer.  
  
Disclaimer: According to Scholastic Inc. Books, I am not the rightful owner of Harry Potter and his ilk. However, I'm more than happy to lend a hand in their next literary efforts. After all, I have a lot of good ideas! So come on, J.K., give this guy a chance! I need to find an easier way to pay for my rent than washing dishes and cooking! Anyway, enough of my misguided anger.  
  
1 Chapter 3- Strange Connections  
  
"Just who is this person that we're going to eat with today?" Hermione hissed as they made their way to the Dining Hall. "I hope he's not some kind of troublemaker!"  
  
"You're not Harry's mum, Herm," Ron said with a mixture of sarcasm and exasperation. Harry, who was unfortunate enough to be standing between the two quarreling young magicians, gave a patient sigh and rubbed his tired eyes.  
  
"Did you even watch the first task, Ron? Someone is clearly after Harry! We can't just give all our secrets away to a complete stranger! You should know better, Harry!"  
  
"Sorry, Hermione." Harry said sheepishly. Now it was Hermione's turn to sigh quietly. Moments after Harry's quiet apology, Hermione shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and smiled.  
  
"Forget it, Harry. We'll just cross this bridge when we come to it. You have to promise me though that you two are going to help me with the House Elf Liberation Front tonight however."  
  
"Oh, man!" Ron shouted in frustration. Harry just chuckled quietly. Ron was well known for being very content with the house elves' condition and was probably the last person who wanted the house elves to stop working at Hogwarts (particularly after indulging in the house elves' cooking talents time and time again). However, Hermione's determination was something that was almost insurmountable for anyone, even someone as stubborn as Ron, to overcome.  
  
"Fine, fine!" Ron said, quickly agreeing with Hermione's request. 'How come I'm always put through these kinds of things!' he thought sourly.  
  
Before the three friends had any more time to debate, they had arrived at the Hogwarts Dining Hall. If you wanted a single image that could be associated with the overall goings-on at the school, a picture of the Hogwarts Dining Room at the start of breakfast was probably the finest example. The huge room was bustling with excited and hungry young witches and wizards, hastily working their way to their seats to get the best pickings. The air was filled with the rich scents and sounds of pancake batter, fresh bacon, and snippets of dozens of different conversations going on at the same time. Many of the young men were clustered around the Ravenclaw table, where many of the exotic veela witches of Beauxbeatons Academy were eating quietly, trying, in vain, to avoid the hormone-charged youth. Meanwhile, over at the Slytherin table, students from the Durmstrang Institute ate with a nearly savage intensity, as if eating their breakfast was a mission that it was imperative for them to succeed. The Triwizard Tournament had brought along representatives from other European magical schools and their presence here only intensified the cheery chaos.  
  
"Hurry, you two," Hermione chirped urgently, "let's get to our seats! Herbology is going to start in 35 minutes!"  
  
"Yes, Hermione," Ron and Harry said simultaneously, earning a sharp glare from their bushy-haired friend. The three friends hustled to their usual seats and quickly arranged their breakfasts. Ron was particularly eager in this task, using his fork to spear generous helpings of sausage, eggs, and bacon before placing them on his plate.  
  
"So, where is this new friend of yours?" Ron asked, his mouth already stuffed with bacon. Harry, who was still searching for Matt, hadn't touched his food yet. After all, he said he was going to make a big entrance and, after last night's meeting, he was hardly going to miss it. While Harry couldn't find the Ravenclaw prankster, Hermione's brown eyes locked in on a certain brown-haired boy walking slowly towards the Slytherin table. It took a while for her to determine the exact destination for the boy's travels: the seats of Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, Harry's archenemies. As the three Slytherins marveled over Draco's new racing broom that his father had bought him the boy crept over towards the trio's drinks and evenly poured the contents of a small potion into each of their goblets. After the deed was done, the brown-haired boy was sporting a huge grin on his face and calmly walked away from his work.  
  
"Are you alright, Hermione?" Hermione ripped her eyes away from the three boorish Slytherins and gazed into Harry's emerald-green eyes.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. I just thought I saw something really weird."  
  
"You'll have to be more specific," Ron said quietly, "something you think is weird is probably pretty bleedin' normal to us." Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron, who quickly returned the gesture, and the three turned back to their breakfast. Several minutes later, however, Harry, Ron, and Hermione heard a sound that was quite, pardon the pun, unheard of in the dining hall.  
  
Oinking.  
  
It took a while for Harry and Hermione to identify the source of it, but Ron found it immediately and was nearly exploding with laughter along with over half of the Hogwarts student body.  
  
Where there was once Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe there now stood three pinkish-white pigs. Startled by the tremendous amount of noise in the Great Hall, the three newly transformed Slytherins quickly panicked and started running about the busy dining hall, almost running over several shocked students. Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and professor of Transfiguration, soon quickly gave chase in an attempt to cure the three, which only made the increased the laughter in the dining hall. Even their fellow Slytherins, who were notorious of standing by one another, were shaking with laughter at the bizarre scene. However, nobody in the dining hall was laughing harder than Ron Weasley, whose family held a long-standing hatred with the Malfoy family that has spanned for generations.  
  
"Do you like my entrance, Harry?" a voice asked from behind the three Gryffindors  
  
Both Harry and Hermione quickly stifled their laughter and whirled around to find the source of the calm voice.  
  
"Matt? You did this?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"Consider it a house-warming gift, night walker!" Matt MacDougal said as he heartily slapped Harry on his shoulders. By now, Ron had somehow managed to stop his own waves of laughter and turned to look at the new person at the table.  
  
"It's one of the potions I've been working on," Matt said with the same wry grin on his face. "I've heard of some of the run-ins you guys have had with those Slytherins and I'm not a big fan of them myself. So, I decided to kill two birds with one stone by using them as test subjects for my new transfiguration potion. And Professor Snape says that transfiguration and potions don't mix!"  
  
While Harry and Ron both laughed heartily at this, Hermione's all-too- familiar cross look came over her face. Although she was amused with the boy's "piggy prank," she wasn't about to let him know it.  
  
"I trust you are the 'friend' that Harry had met yesterday," Hermione said flatly.  
  
"Matt MacDougal's my name," he said while extending his hand in a jovial fashion.  
  
"Ron Weasley," Ron said merrily clasping Matt's hands with his own. "Let me just say that trick was just fantastic!" Harry almost laughed at Ron's cheeriness and enthusiasm.  
  
"Sit down, Matt," Harry said while pushing the seat next to him open. "This is Hermione Granger," he said, pointing to the bushy-haired fourth- year student.  
  
"Granger?" Matt said slowly as he lowered himself down in the chair, "as in the Granger that founded the House-Elf Liberation Front?" At that question, Hermione's interest in the boy picked up significantly.  
  
"Yes!" Hermione said excitedly. "Would you like to join?"  
  
"No, thanks," Matt said simply, "I just wanted a face to match with all the ludicrous ideas I read in that pamphlet of yours." At that comment, Ron nearly spit out his scrambled eggs and Harry's silverware dropped on his plate with a horrible clang!. Hermione's auburn-brown eyes narrowed into slits and gave Matt a dreadful scowl. Despite his bravery, even Matthew was forced to take a step back from the angry Gryffindor.  
  
"And just what is your stance on the rights of house elves, Mr. MacDougal?" Hermione asked coldly, her eyes never leaving the Ravenclaw student for the slightest moment.  
  
"Well, um," Matt stammered, the self-confidence he had gained from his clever prank now blown to the fore-winds, "I just think that, um".  
  
"Go on," Hermione asked, her hostile tone nearly freezing Matt to the bone.  
  
"It's just that I don't agree with your idea of 'freedom' for the house-elves," Matt said slowly. Ron and Harry had not moved from their spots, looking at Hermione to see how she would respond. Much to their shock, Hermione's hard scowl had faded away into a countenance of thoughtful determination.  
  
"What is wrong with allowing house-elves their freedom from the slavery we've put them under?" That question left the three boys silent for a moment. Then, much to the amazement of Matt, Harry, and Ron, Harry spoke up.  
  
"I think he's saying that, um, just giving house-elves their personal freedom in an instant would do more harm than good."  
  
"What do you mean, Harry?" Hermione asked, her eyes alight with interest. "For hundreds of years these creatures have been socially conditioned that servitude is the highest form of life they can accomplish. You know as well as I do that we are responsible for the condition of the house-elves and I feel that we must do something to stop it."  
  
"Social whatta? What does shampoo have to do with house-elves?" Ron asked, completely befuddled by the debate. However, the other three students at the table ignored Ron's confusion. Seeing that he wasn't the point of attention, Ron quickly snatched Hermione's unused knife and used it to spread some strawberry preserved on his toast.  
  
"That's exactly the point!" Matt shouted. "Hundreds of years of being told that something was good for them is not going to be undone by jus telling them that it's wrong. If you want to free the house-elves, you have to show them that there are alternatives to their current lifestyles. Whether they think it's preferable or not must be a decision made up to them, not to you."  
  
"I agree," Harry said with determination. "After all, even some of the African slaves who were freed by government legislation remained on the land of the people who enslaved them."  
  
"But that's because they had nowhere else to go!" Hermione said, her left fist slamming down upon the table, causing her glass of orange juice to spill onto the table. Ron moved quickly to move the spilt juice from anybody's food.  
  
'All this hard work shouldn't just go to waste,' Ron thought.  
  
"Then you can show the house-elves that they do have a place to go." Matt said, grabbing a spare knife from the Gryffindor breakfast table and snagging a piece of toast.  
  
"But what about Dobby?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Who?" Matt asked, completely thrown.  
  
"One of Lucius Malfoy's former house-elves," Ron said, happy to finally contribute something intelligent to the conversation.  
  
"He's currently working as a paid employee in the Hogwarts kitchens," Harry finished.  
  
"Okay. And how is this elf treated by the other elves?" Matt asked Hermione.  
  
"Well," she began, very slow to tell the truth, "The other elves look down on him."  
  
"Exactly," Matt said while pointing the butter knife at Hermione, "you have to understand that the elves that do change because of what you do are going to make a huge sacrifice."  
  
"But Dobby is happy!" Hermione said with exasperation.  
  
"But that doesn't guarantee that other house-elves will be!" Everything was quiet for a moment at the brief part of the Gryffindor table. Then, Hermione picked up the now empty cup of orange juice off of the table and stared into it. Harry and Matt looked at one another, both with the same guilty look.  
  
"But," Matt stammered, desperately trying to cheer her up, "it's a noble cause."  
  
"Yes, it's very noble," Harry said quickly. "I'm really proud that you're working so hard on something you believe in. It's really endearing." At that compliment, Hermione gave a short blush that she hoped that no one noticed.  
  
"Do you really think so, Harry?" Hermione asked, a tender smile creeping up on her face.  
  
"Um, well, of course!" Now it was Harry's turn to give a slight blush, a blush that was not ignored by either Matt or Ron. Matt turned to Ron, raising his eyebrow in interest. Ron, in response, gave a short nod that told Matt that he'd tell him about it later.  
  
"You know," Ron said as he used his napkin to wipe some of Hermione's orange juice from his Herbology book, "my mum once read me a story about an elf castle way below the earth."  
  
"Oh yeah!" Matt piped up, turning back to face Ron, "my gran told me that story too! There was an elf king and they fought giants and everything!"  
  
"Maybe you can read it to them in the kitchens, Herm." Harry said, bopping Hermione in the shoulder with his fist. "Maybe it'll inspire 'em, you never know!"  
  
"Maybe," she said with a sardonic grin. "But despite what you two think," she said while pointing two short fingers at Harry and Matt, "I'll do anything to help the house-elves see the truth." Matt and Harry, both deciding that further argument was futile, both sighed in defeat.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Ron said, slapping Matt firmly around the shoulders. "She seems like a pain in the arse now, but get to know her and you'll see she's even worse."  
  
"Oh shut it you stupid git," Hermione whispered good-naturedly, causing Matt and Harry to laugh. Ron, in response, simply took another big swig of pumpkin juice before turning sideways to face Matt.  
  
"Well," Ron said with a smile, "now that we got that silly talk out of the way, let's talk about more important things!"  
  
"And what do you consider to be more important than personal freedom?" Hermione snorted.  
  
"What Matt's favorite Quidditch team is. Are you a fan of the Cannons, Matt?" Groaning in frustration, Hermione abruptly slouched down and placed her head on top of her Herbology book, her hair seemingly covering the entire cover. Harry had to laugh. Ron was a huge fan of the wizard sport and, on many occasions, it seemed to be the only thing he ever wanted to talk about. Although Ron's favorite team, the Chudley Cannons, had not won a pennant in over two decades, Ron cheered them on to an almost insane degree. It was that enthusiasm that truly attracted Harry to him. Matt, on the other hand, seemed to shy away from Ron's inquisition.  
  
"Well, I really don't. . ."  
  
"Don't tell me you're a fan of the Dublin Dodgers?!" Ron said with exasperation. "I don't think I could stand running into another one of their fans. Bloody egotistical bastards!"  
  
"You're just mad at them because they beat the Cannons every time they play them," Harry said simply.  
  
"Shaddap, Harry!" Ron shouted before turning back to Matt, who seemed to want to scamper away from the table. "Well, Matt, what about it?" Matt continued to squirm underneath Ron's anxious look.  
  
"Well, Ron, Idon'tfollowquidditch." Matt mumbled harshly. Harry raised his eyebrows in shock while Hermione looked up from her book. Ron, however, was a little slow to respond.  
  
"What did you say?" Ron said, his tone of voice mixed with shock, confusion, and a hint of suspicion. Wilting under Ron's voice, Matt gave a deep sigh and slumped his shoulders before responding.  
  
"I just don't really like Quidditch, Ron." Matt said with a shrug. "I just think that wizards could do a whole lot more with their abilities then fly around chasing a bunch of dumb balls with silly names. It's a waste of perfectly good time and energy."  
  
Ron's mouth was open so wide that he could have fit a jam jar in it.  
  
"You're a wizard?" Ron asked slowly.  
  
"Last time I checked," Matt responded.  
  
"And you don't like Quidditch?" Ron asked, his tone disbelieving.  
  
"Nope." Ron took quite a bit of time to respond to Matt's simple answer.  
  
"Is that even possible?"  
  
"Quit gawking, Ron!" Hermione snapped, hurtling Matt and Ron out of their bizarre conversation. "If Matt doesn't like Quidditch, then he doesn't like it. Don't look at him like he's some kind of alien!" Ron's ears quickly turned pink with that and abruptly returned to his food.  
  
"You know, Matt," Harry said with a smile. "I'm the seeker on the Gryffindor House team. Maybe I can change your mind on Quidditch." With that, Matt immediately perked up.  
  
"Perhaps I could," Matt said with a smile. "And maybe I could show you how to make these cool potions I've been working on!"  
  
"Well," Hermione chirped brightly, "then it looks like we have a compromise!" Hermione took a brief glance at her watch. "Speaking of compromises, how about we settle our debates later. Herbology starts in five minutes, guys."  
  
"Better get going then," Harry said while wolfing down the last of his scrambled eggs. "We'll see you later, Matt!"  
  
"Okay, Harry." Matt said, taking a brief look at his now cold breakfast. Harry, Hermione, and Matt all quickly stood up and gathered their belongings. Ron, still in shock over Matt's confession, was still rooted to his chair.  
  
"He doesn't like Quidditch." Ron said slowly.  
  
"Yes, Ron. We know that." Hermione said while grabbing a fistful of Ron's robe and dragging the redhead along. "Nice to meet you, Matt!" she said while waving cheerfully to him. While Matt rushed towards Arithmancy, he had one word on the tip of his tongue as he thought about the three Gryffindors that he just met.  
  
"Cool."  
  
It was a typical day in class for Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. In Herbology, Professor Sprout had a collection of gigantic Venus Fly-Traps on display as she taught the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs on how to shear them properly. Harry, who had acquired a bit of bad luck when it came to Herbology over the last few weeks, nearly had his hand bit off by one of the more anxious plants. Fortunately, Ron was able to warn him in time. In Care of Magical Creatures, the three Gryffindors were not pleased to find out that they were going to get to know their "pets" a little better. Unfortunately, their pets were blast- ended skrewts, vicious creatures with horrible poisonous spikes, tubes that could suck blood, and the ability to "blast off," which could set some unfortunate student on fire. Then, as Hermione went to Professor Vector's Arithmancy class, Ron and Harry went high up into the North Tower for their Divination class, where Professor Trelawney continued to prophesize a series of unfortunate fates for Harry long after Ron had fallen asleep.  
  
"How come that old bat never prophesizes my death?" Ron asked Harry as they descended down the Astronomy tower on their way to the Gryffindor common room. "At least I would have some reason to be there then. It's no good for you to have all the fun."  
  
"Can't help you there, Ron," Harry said with a smile, brushing back some of his wild black hair from his forehead. "I guess I just have all the luck."  
  
"Look on the bright side, Harry. We don't have any homework in Herbology tonight. Maybe we can convince Hermione to come down to Hagrid's with us."  
  
"You're not looking for another meeting with those skrewts are you?"  
  
"Good God!" Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think I can stand another day with those monsters. If I didn't like Hagrid so much I would have killed that blasted skrewt the first day I saw it!" Although Harry did not fully agree with Ron's opinion toward the blast-ended skrewts, he didn't disagree either. Hagrid had a well-known love for taking care of dangerous creatures, the more lethal the better. Back in Harry's first year, Hagrid had somehow managed to purchase a dragon egg, which Hagrid had fully intended to hatch and raise at the cost of his job and possible freedom until they had talked him out of it. By the time Hagrid had allowed the dragon to leave, "Baby Norbert" was almost big enough to burn down Hagrid's house. However, Hagrid didn't care about that then and he just thought the skrewts were the cutest creatures he ever met now.  
  
'Guess we all have our little quirks,' Harry thought with a grin.  
  
It took quite an effort on Ron's part to convince Hermione to venture out to Hagrid's cabin. She had begun to prepare a History of Magic essay that wasn't due for two months. Only a tremendous display of stubborn determination on Ron's part could persuade the Gryffindor bookworm to drop her quill and join them in having a little fun.  
  
"If only to keep you two out of trouble," Hermione said in her defense.  
  
Moments later, the three friends were tromping their way through the grassy knoll that led to Hagrid's cabin. They spotted the grounds keeper well before they reached the hut. Indeed, with Hagrid standing well over 8 feet tall, he was very difficult not to spot. He had his back to the three, seeming to look at one of the larger skrewts, which looked as though it was preparing to set fire to Hagrid's pumpkin patch.  
  
"Oi, Hagrid!" Ron shouted as the three drew closer. Hagrid swiveled around abruptly, his beetle-black eyes seeming to lock on to Harry's. Even Hagrid's enormous beard could not hope to cover up the gameskeepers' smile.  
  
"'ello you three!" Hagrid roared happily. "Didn't 'spect to see you here. Jus' watchin' one of my babies," referring to the skrewt in the pumpkin patch. It had now taken to using its' spikes to punch holes into some of the bigger pumpkins.  
  
"Ain't it beautiful?" Hagrid said, his eyes nearly brimming with tears.  
  
"Yes. . ." Hermione said, very careful to hide her sarcasm. "It's lovely." Ron and Harry could barely stifle their laughter.  
  
"Ah," Hagrid said, his huge grin still beaming. "There's someone I'd like ya to meet." Hagrid cupped his huge hands around his mouth so as not to hurt the children's ears. "Matt! Come on over!" Then, turning back to the Gryffindors, he whispered, "Matt's one of me best students."  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Harry all exchanged looks. Shortly after Hagrid's shout, a familiar young man had appeared over a hill, his brown hair fluttering in the harsh winds. He was trailed by one of the larger skrewts, who seemed to be making efforts to follow the young man diligently. Hagrid seemed to shine as he and the Gryffindors watched the skrewt follow Matt around as if it were a trained puppy. Because of the sunset, it took a while for Matt to spot Harry and the others. When he did, however, he smiled brightly and ran over to see them.  
  
"Hi, guys!" Matt said, the skrewt rushing to catch up with him. "I was taking Ginger out for a walk. I didn't expect to see you guys here!"  
  
"Ginger?!" Harry asked, bewildered.  
  
"My skrewt," Matt responded simply, as though having a blast-ended skrewt for a pet seemed like a completely logical thing to do. "You want to pet it? She's real friendly!"  
  
"I'd rather not," Ron responded while leaping several feet away from Matt and "Ginger". Harry and Hermione, however, had somehow summed up the courage to step up and try. However, well before either of their hands reached the skrewt they were greeted with a harsh growl that they had heard far too often from the other skrewts. Matt just chuckled.  
  
"You have to know where they like to be touched," Matt said simply as his left hand grazed a small spot between some of the skrewt's spikes. Ginger's angry demeanor had quickly diminished as it started rubbing its head against Matt's pant leg. Harry and Hermione had quickly followed Matt's lead and, within seconds, Ginger seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.  
  
"I've always had a knack with animals," Matt said, the same simple tone still resonating in his voice. "It's been that way ever since I was young."  
  
"Is this the same way you found out about Mrs. Norris?" Harry asked.  
  
"You got it, Harry. You just have to know what you're getting yourself into before you do it."  
  
"You should 'ave seen the way he handled the hippogriffs last year!" Hagrid gushed, wrapping a mammoth hand around Matt's shoulders. "By the first day he was flying with those things around Hogwarts. Never seen anythin' like it." Matt was blushing profusely at this point.  
  
"It wasn't that much," Matt, said, trying desperately to maintain some humility, "I think it really wanted to toss me into the lake and I was too scared to fall off." Hermione and Harry both laughed at that. Ron, meanwhile, had managed to inch a bit closer to the skrewt but didn't seem prepared to move any further. After all, he wasn't a fool.  
  
"So," Hagrid went on, "what brings you three to me hut today?"  
  
"We just wanted to drop by and say hello," Hermione answered while still petting Ginger.  
  
"Oh, an' by the way, 'Arry." Hagrid said cheerily. "Congratulations on the first task. You sure showed that Horntail. Did you see 'Arry flyin' out there, Matt?"  
  
"Hagrid," Matt said with patient exasperation, "I was taking care of the skrewts, remember?" Hagrid made a little effort to recollect before responding.  
  
"Ah, yeah!" Hagrid said, finally remembering. "You shoulda' been there, Matt. 'Twas amazing it was. 'Arry's a great flier, just like his dad."  
  
"Thanks, Hagrid." Harry said. It was his turn to blush again. Hagrid was about to invite the four students in for some treacle tarts until Ron spotted another figure coming towards the hut. A figure that caused Ron, Harry, and Hermione to scowl in anger and mistrust.  
  
For there, in front of Hagrid, stood Daily Prophet investigative reporter Rita Skeeter. Her ever-present Quick Quotes quill was poking out of her kitschy crocodile-skin handbag. Her magenta robes clashed with the fading sunset in such a horrible fashion that it made Matt want to cross his eyes. Matt knew very little about Rita Skeeter, aside from her reputation of causing trouble with nasty rumors in her column, but he had immediately gained a scowl similar to Harry's.  
  
"'Lo there, milady. Can I help you in any fashion?"  
  
Hagrid, 'bless his heart', Matt thought, was oblivious to it. The titanic groundskeeper was just happy to meet a new face.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, is it?" Rita asked, her voice very terse. "What a pleasant afternoon. I came by to see if I could interview you about your relationship with Harry Potter." Harry's look of anger quickly changed to confusion. It was as if . .  
  
"She doesn't know you're here Harry!" Hermione whispered. It was quite true. "Ginger's" flank had effectively blocked Harry from Rita's roving eyes. "Stay hidden," she hissed to Harry and Ron, "I want to see what she does." By the time Harry and Ron had turned back to Rita and Hagrid, Rita had already started questioning the amiable Care of Magical Creatures teacher.  
  
"How long have you known Harry Potter, Mr. Hagrid?"  
  
"Jus' call me Hagrid, ma'am," he said with a smile, "an' I've known 'Arry ever since he was a little tyke. I was the one who took 'im to his Muggle relatives when, well, ya' know."  
  
"Yes," Rita said, treating Hagrid's painful memory as if it were just another part of her story.  
  
"I was also the one who picked 'im up when he was to go to Hogwarts," Hagrid said with his chest puffed up with pride.  
  
"So you've been acquainted with Harry for the three years he's been to Hogwarts?" Rita asked flatly. "Tell me, how would you describe his behavior around his professors. Does he cause as much trouble as I've heard?" Harry rolled his eyes at the ridiculous question while Hermione and Ron both scrunched up their faces in anger.  
  
"Well, I can't say fer the other professors, but I've never had to tell him off in four years."  
  
"He never played you up in lessons, has he?" Rita asked, her voice now tainted with irritation.  
  
"Not once," Hagrid said with a questioning frown. "'Scuse me, Mrs. Skeeter, I don't mean to offend ya' but it seems like you're wantin' me to say Harry was horrible."  
  
"I'd be inclined to agree, Professor." Matt said, rising up from his hiding spot while trying desperately to hold in his anger. He knew that he had just met Harry, but he wasn't about to have anyone talk bad about him while he was around. And he certainly wasn't going to let this little mole pressure Hagrid any longer.  
  
Not to mention. . . he just had the most wicked idea.  
  
Rita was visibly perturbed by the student's appearance, but the seemingly innocent smile on the Ravenclaw's face seemed to disarm her a bit. "And who might you be, young man?"  
  
"My name's Matt MacDougal," he said sweetly. "I'm in my fourth year just like Harry." Rita's interests visibly perked up after hearing Harry's name.  
  
"Oh!" Rita exclaimed while taking some time to readjust her writing pad onto her horribly manicured hands. "And how well do you know Harry, Mr. MacDougal?"  
  
"Well, Mrs. Skeeter, to be honest, I was wondering if you'd like to see some of the animals that we've been taking care of in Hagrid's class. You know, since you're interviewing him and all."  
  
"I'd like that very much," Rita said with a smile, fully expecting that this idiotic boy would show her some flobberworms and maybe a hinkypink before leaving her so she could continue her business. As he promised, Matt soon introduced Rita to one of Hagrid's magical creatures. The one that was still trashing Hagrid's pumpkin patch, to be precise.  
  
"This is a blast-ended skrewt," Matt said, somehow still maintaining his harmless tone. While Rita stared at the horrific monster, Matt slowly made his way to one of Hagrid's feeding bins and pulled out a recently plucked and decapitated chicken. The skrewt took an immediate interest to the delicacy, so much so that Matt was amazed that it didn't rush after him already.  
  
"Why don't you sit by his flank, Mrs. Skeeter?" Matt asked, praying that Mrs. Skeeter's knowledge of blast-ended skrewts was as little as he expected. As if to answer his silent question, Rita had circled around the creature so that its' back was turned to her. After making a short prayer, Matt decided to put his plan into action.  
  
"Fetch boy!" Matt shouted, throwing the chicken carcass across the pumpkin patch. The skrewt, now seeing that its pathway to food was clear, chose to get to it the fastest way possible.  
  
"EEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK!!!!" Rita screeched as her magenta robes and Quick Quotes quill was set ablaze by the skrewt's "blasting off." Hagrid had hastily grabbed a bucket of water to throw on Rita while Hermione and Harry's eyes were wide open in shock. Ron, on the other hand, was rolling on the forest floor with laughter, his ears turning pink from the lack of oxygen. After a few tense moments, the flames had been extinguished and Hagrid began to profusely apologize to Rita.  
  
"That will be all, Mr. Hagrid," Rita said, her dark eyes staring directly into Matt's intense scowl. Rita, to her credit, returned the gaze with equal ferocity. Without another word, Rita quickly stalked away from Hagrid's hut, muttering something about "dirty little heathens." By the time Rita had gone over the hill that led back to Hogwarts, Matt had turned back to Hagrid with a very apologetic look on his face.  
  
"Sorry I can't stay for the treacle tarts, Hagrid," Matt said, the tone of his voice still traced with anger, "but I think I've lost my appetite." Harry and Hermione were still too shocked to say anything while Ron was still trying to regain some oxygen. And, without another word, Matt was stalking back to Hogwarts.  
  
The sun had long since been set before Ron, Harry, and Hermione heard from Matt again that day. They had settled down for a night of relaxation in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione had spent the last hour pouring over a book about the life of Elfric the Eager while Ron and Harry had busied themselves with several lop-sided games of wizard chess. Try as Harry might, he could never quite catch up to Ron when it came to chess.  
  
"Come on, Hermione!" Ron said impatiently while one of his bishops drug an enemy pawn off the board. "Get your nose out of that book. That dumb goblin can't be that interesting!"  
  
"I don't know, Ron, some of those goblin rebellions are pretty grisly."  
  
Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat in shock after hearing the seemingly disembodied voice while Ron's face began to pale. Harry, on the other hand, quickly determined the voice's source.  
  
"How did you get in here, Matt?" Harry asked simply, his eyes not leaving the chessboard. Ron's eyes, in contrast were as wide as saucers.  
  
"It can't be Matt! How could he have gotten into the common room?"  
  
"I could've followed your brothers." And with that revelation, Matt snapped himself out of the effects of his invisibility potion and made himself visible. Upon seeing the Ravenclaw, Hermione returned to her traditional grimace of frustration.  
  
"That Skeeter woman could have really been hurt from what you did to her!"  
  
"Come off it, Hermione," Ron said with a smile, "you liked watching that nosy git get burned as much as Harry and I did!"  
  
"Whether I did or not," Hermione said tartly, "It doesn't change the fact that it was a horrible thing to do."  
  
"Sorry, Hermione," Matt said softly. "I just wanted to stop her from badgering Hagrid and it was the best idea I could think of at the time." After the apology, Matt tried his puppy-dog eyes on Hermione and started speaking childishly.  
  
"Could you pwease forgive me? Pweaty pwease with sugar on top?" Hermione tried to stop Matt with a look of utter disgust, but her efforts were in vain.  
  
"Alright, alright," Hermione said, finally relenting. "Just don't do it again!"  
  
Over the next hour, the four students had swapped stories while having a grand time. Matt told Ron and Hermione about his invisibility potion while Hermione showed off her Transfiguration skills by turning her Arithmancy book into a hamster. Ron seemed determined to tell Matt everything he knew about Quidditch while Harry had told all Matt wanted to know about Rita Skeeter.  
  
"Should have got her better than I did," Matt said, ignoring the glance from Hermione.  
  
"Wish I would've thought of it," Ron said, turning to stare at the roaring fire that heated the cozy confines of the Gryffindor Common Room. "I've been wanting to get at her ever since she wrote that nasty article about my dad."  
  
"You better be careful, Matt," Hermione said cautiously, "Rita may try to dig up some dirt on you now."  
  
"Don't worry!" Matt said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've got nothing to hide! I'm as innocent as the day I was born." Hermione snorted quite loudly at that statement.  
  
"You know," Harry said to Matt, "you should really get out of here, Matt. I'd hate to be in your shoes if Professor McGonagall catches you in here." At that, Matt abruptly burst into laughter.  
  
"Why should I have to worry about that old bat!" Matt boasted. "She couldn't catch me unless I gave her a five-day head start!" As Matt continued to tell the three Gryffindors about his skill in secrecy, he was quite unaware that another Gryffindor had caught that last snippet of conversation.  
  
"Um, Matt." Ron murmured.  
  
"I mean, COME ON! This is me we're talking about. I know you don't know me very well yet, but let me tell you. If I don't want to get caught, then I'm not going to get caught."  
  
"But, Matt. . ." Harry said.  
  
"BUT NOTHING!" Matt shouted. "She always gives me such a hard time in Transfiguration, but I'll always have the upper hand when it comes to her! Always!"  
  
"Always, huh?" Minerva McGonagall quipped, now standing directly behind Matt. Matt didn't even bother to turn around.  
  
"Crud." Matt said quietly.  
  
It wasn't the first time that Professor McGonagall had dragged Matt around Hogwarts while holding onto his ear, but it was diffidently the most painful.  
  
"Unbelievable!" Minerva spat, completely ignoring Matt's occasional yelps of pain. "Sneaking into my common room when it's past lights out! I'd wager that you were also the one behind that pig incident at breakfast this morning." Professor McGonagall stopped abruptly at that, turning around sharply to look at the troublemaker.  
  
"Well, are you?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he answered timidly, quite thankful that she had ceased pulling on his ear. Instead, Professor McGonagall had grabbed a handful of Matt's cloak and dragged him to her office. Once they arrived, Professor McGonagall ordered Matt to take a seat as she proceeded to tower over him.  
  
"I'm having a hard time trying to determine a punishment for you this time around, young man," Minerva said, her arms crossed and her nostrils flared up so harshly that Matt seriously considered the notion of sticking a Knut or two up them. "Perhaps you would like to offer me some advice on this!"  
  
"Well," Matt said, "maybe you could just let me off with a warning?"  
  
"Fat chance, mister." McGonagall said, still maintaining her arctic- level glare. "I would deduct points from your house, but that doesn't seem to stop you from breaking the rules. Thus, I will simply give you a week's detention." A rather foolish part of Matt's brain almost strummed up the nerve to complain about his sentencing but his logic soon nipped that idea in the bud. "Now, all I need to do is find someone who will put up with your foolish behavior for a week."  
  
"Perhaps I can be of some help in that matter," a cold voice said from within McGonagall's doorway. The voice belonged to a sallow-faced man with slick black hair and a hooked nose. For most people, an encounter with Potions master Severus Snape was an experience that they would like to forget. From his nasty temper to his very shady past, the head of Slytherin house was one of the least liked people at Hogwarts.  
  
For a man who was suffering from the withering glare of Minerva McGonagall, however, it was a thankful sight to behold.  
  
"Are you certain, Severus?" Minerva asked while never taking her eyes of Matt, "I'm sure that Professor Flitwick would prefer to take care of this manner in his own fashion."  
  
"Nonsense, Minerva," Snape said, holding Matt still with a tight- lipped grin. "I will be more than happy to deal with this boy's transgressions." Professor McGonagall looked from Snape to Matt, as if to judge if even Matt had deserved such a horrible punishment.  
  
"Why not?" Minerva said with a sly grin. "Very well. Starting now, you will report to Professor Snape for your detention assignments. If you fail or displease Professor Snape in any fashion, I will be more than happy to extend your stay there."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Matt muttered quietly, his once hyper-inflated ego now reduced to the size of a chickpea.  
  
Neither Snape or Matt said a word as they made the long trip down the perilous pathway that led to Snape's dungeon. Snape was striding at such a fast pace that Matt almost had to jog to keep up with him. When they arrived in the clammy dungeon, one of the torchlights had gone out and Professor Snape gave a silent order for Matt to relight it, without using magic, of course. If it was one thing that Severus Snape disliked, it was students that took unnecessary shortcuts. Once the task was done, Matt had turned around to see Snape leafing through a large book full of formulas for a considerable variety of potions.  
  
"Um, thank you very much, Professor Snape," Matt sounded out quietly. It was a good thirty seconds before Snape responded.  
  
"Tell me something," Snape said in his familiar wintry drawl while still flipping through the pages, "is it true you turned three students that are under my care into pigs?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is it true that you set Rita Skeeter on fire using one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts?"  
  
"Yes." Matt felt no need to question Snape on how he learned of this. He was well aware of Snape's ability to obtain information.  
  
"Is it true that, using an illegal potion, you snuck into the Gryffindor Common Room after hours?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you take any of the ingredients from my storage?"  
  
"No, sir." Finally, Snape ceased searching through the potions book and stared directly at the young Ravenclaw, his sharp, black eyes looking for any signs of deceit. After a brief examination, Severus was quite pleased that he found none. As a reward, the greasy-haired Potions professor gave him a cold smirk, which was, for Snape, the highest form of respect that he ever gave anyone.  
  
Matt couldn't have been happier.  
  
When he first arrived at Hogwarts, some of the older Ravenclaw students had told him to watch out for Professor Snape, who had obtained a well-earned reputation for being hard on students, particularly those not in his own house. Although Snape had proven this rumor to him time and time again, Matt had, over time developed a harsh form of respect for the head of Slytherin house. Snape pushed him harder than any other teacher he had ever met and, for him, it was truly a privilege for the codgery Potions professor to hold him in such high-esteem.  
  
"Listen up, boy. Madam Pomfrey has requested five-dozen Esuna potions and we shall be the wizards to provide them. With any luck, you will somehow muster the intellectual acumen to create twenty-five of these potions during this week, starting with the five you will make before the sun rises. If you fail me, I will deduct twenty-five points from your house for every potion you do not make successfully. Do I make myself clear, boy?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Matt said, his face now cleared of bemusement and merriment. There was work to be done, and Matt was not about to dodge away from it.  
  
Ever since he was five years old, Matt had been fascinated with potions. You did not need to be a magician to make a potion, you just needed your own intelligence and determination. It wasn't like Transfiguration, which Matt viewed as a worthless exercise of a wizard's talent. Honestly, when would you ever need to turn a mouse into a snuffbox?! Making potions was a precise exercise, nerve-racking and stressful, particularly with a teacher like Severus Snape. When you made a potion, it was an extension of your own capabilities. The more difficult the potion to make, the more fun Matt had in making it. And as far as potions go, it does not get more difficult than the Esuna potion.  
  
Matt could understand why Madam Pomfrey would want a supply of them. Esuna potions could, if made correctly, cure someone of nearly any poison known to man within moments. With the number of dangerous creatures lurking around Hogwarts combined with the number of nosy students that were bound to meet some of these dangerous creatures, having an Esuna potion or two around was more of a necessity than a failsafe.  
  
Snape and Matt both worked together at the same table, each of them furiously laboring away at their own stations. Snape seemed to move through the complex motions as if they were nothing, but Matt was determined to give the professor a run for his money. As the hours passed, cloves of garlic were precisely cut and the feet of many rabbits had fallen into their cauldrons. There were over a dozen ingredients that made up the Esuna potion, from a clove of garlic to a rabbit's foot, to a stalk of mandrake, and not one of these ingredients could be prepared incorrectly. Finally, as the larks began to signal the coming of the sun, Matt was greeted with the sight of thirteen Esuna potions lined up on one side of the table, six of which he was proud to say he had made. After taking a brief moment of time experimenting with each, Severus turned to Matt to issue his judgment.  
  
"A lucky break, boy. Get out of my sight."  
  
With those glowing words, Matt gave a quick farewell to the Potions master and rushed his way towards the Ravenclaw common room. On the way, he said hello to Peeves, who challenged him to a game of tennis in the Great Hall. He nearly ran through the Grey Lady, the ghost of the Ravenclaw house. Upon seeing him, the old ghost gave him a patient and knowing smile.  
  
"I'll speak to you in the morning, dear." Matt just dashed by her and hastily made his way up to the fourth-floor boys dorm. Ignoring the loud snoring of his roommate, Terry Boot, he collapsed onto his bed for a well- earned three hours of sleep.  
  
And thus, the end of another long day at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Yikes! I didn't expect to go on this long, but I wanted to make certain that my main characters were introduced properly. If you feel the same way, feel free to tell me about it. I could use the reviews. Well, for those of you who are still reading, I'd like to thank you for putting up with my ramblings and allow me to give you a present: the preview of the next chapter!  
  
The Yule Ball is rolling around at Hogwarts and Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Matt are looking for some dancing partners. What happens when history is changed and Viktor Krum is out of Hermione's social picture? What woman would be desperate enough to go out with either Matt or Ron?! Also, it seems that Voldemort is planning to send one of his servants in to crash the party. Who is this mysterious assassin? Find out the answers to all this and more in. . . Chapter Four: Prelude to Romance?! 


	4. Prelude to Romance?!

Well, allow me to welcome all of you to Part 4 of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery. Before I begin, a number of people have asked me why Matt's name changed from Chapter 1 to Chapter 2. Well, allow me to say that the change was intentional. The reason? Well, you'll just have to wait and see! What am I forgetting? . . ah, yes!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and his merry band of witches and wizards. The rights currently belong to numerous interests including Scholastic Inc. Books, Warner Bros. Pictures, and J.K. Rowling herself. Once again, the offer to aid Mrs. Rowling in her further literary excursions remains on the table. After all, from what I've heard, it seems that she needs some new ideas.  
  
Chapter 4- Prelude to Romance?  
  
Matt was whistling an unknown tune as he strolled out of the shower in the fourth-year boys dorm, harshly running a towel through his damp, brown hair. He bounded towards a window and let the pale winter sunlight into the dark dormitory. The sight of freshly fallen December snow on the lush forest surrounding the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was an almost intoxicating sight to him.  
  
"Shut those bloody blinds, you stupid prat."  
  
Of course, not everyone shared his enthusiasm.  
  
The grouchy, sleep-slurred voice belonged to Terry Boot, the only other occupant of the boy's fourth-year dorm in Ravenclaw. Terry was one of the brightest students that Hogwarts had seen in well over a decade. His raw intelligence nearly rivaled Hermione's and his work in Potions could even confuse Matt and his ability in Herbology and Charms was something you had to see to believe. Yes, Terry Boot was many things, but he was hardly a morning lark.  
  
"Come on, Terry!" Matt chirped. "It's a beautiful day outside."  
  
"And I'll enjoy the beautiful day where it's nice and warm!" Terry said with irritation, pulling his blue wool blanket over his eyes to hide from the intruding light.  
  
"Ah, you're just a party pooper!" Matt said as he slid on one of his school sweaters and a pair of blue jeans. "You want me to get you something to eat while I'm at the dining hall?"  
  
"Matt, all I want is for you to leave me alone so I can get some decent rest!"  
  
"Don't blame me for your crankiness, Terry. This is what you get when you try to memorize your school books!" Matt said in an authoritative tone that sounded much like Hermione. "Honestly, am I going to have to find you a girlfriend?"  
  
Terry now had his wand pointed directly at Matt, a furious and determined look in his eyes.  
  
"Name a hex, Matt. I'll see if I can use it on you."  
  
"All right, all right," Matt said unfazed. "Get some sleep, buddy. You've got an hour before class starts!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Terry said, placing his wand back on his nightstand and turning his back away from Matt. It was a routine that the two of them have performed since their first year. And, like on most occasions, Terry had fallen asleep just after Matt closed the door.  
  
A sparse number of students were scattered about the Ravenclaw common room, most of them either coming from or going to the dining room for breakfast. The Ravenclaw common room was quite different from its Gryffindor counterpart. A small fire was flickering in the sparsely decorated fireplace while some students did some last-minute homework while sitting in straight-back wooden chairs. The Ravenclaw common room was not a place for comfort. It almost seemed to be a monument dedicated to scholarly endeavors. Before he could take any more of the atmosphere in, however, a pair of warm hands covered his eyes.  
  
"Guess who," a mischievous sing-songy voice asked.  
  
"You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Not even close."  
  
"A rather tall house-elf?"  
  
"Don't insult me."  
  
"A naked Fleur Delaclour?"  
  
"Now you're just dreaming!"  
  
Deciding to end the little game, Matt took hold of the girl's wrists and pried them away from his face. Turning around quickly, he was greeted with the vision of a young woman with honey-blond hair and sparkling jade- colored eyes. Her face was framed with an impish smile as she moved to give him an almost viciously friendly hug.  
  
"Nice to see you too, Mandy." Matt choked out.  
  
Mandy Brocklehurst was a fellow fourth-year student who had known Matt even before he went to Hogwarts. Like Matt, she possessed a cheery exterior but mostly remained a loner. She was also one of the few people that he would trust with some of his most valued secrets.  
  
"I haven't seen you in a while, pal," Mandy said as she let go of her embrace and lightly punched the young man in the shoulder. "You've been hanging around with Harry Potter again, huh? You're not trying to rubberneck the fame of The Boy Who Lived, are you?"  
  
"I'll have you know that I can become infamous by my own means!" Matt said with a mock look of insult on his face.  
  
"Just try not to lose too many house points while you're doing it, young man," said another voice.  
  
Matt and Mandy whirled around to view the translucent figure of the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw house ghost. A traditional blue Ravenclaw robe was draped around the ghost's pale countenance. Many of those outside of Ravenclaw thought of the Grey Lady as a moody spirit, one who seemed to fit with the seemingly business-like attitude that many people associated with Ravenclaws. In reality, she was quite compassionate and caring, always willing to give words of encouragement or advice to her wayward students. Matt and Mandy were, of course, no exception.  
  
"Don't worry about me, milady!" Matt said as gave the Grey Lady a melodramatic bow. "I shant bring any shame upon the good name of Rowena Ravenclaw."  
  
"Too little, too late." Mandy said flatly, to which the Grey Lady smirked and laughed.  
  
"By the way, Matt," the Grey Lady said. "Professor McGonagall is awaiting you in her office."  
  
"Bloody hell!" Matt said as he ran a nervous hand through his brown hair. "What on earth could this be about?"  
  
"She's probably still mad at you for turning those Slytherins into pigs." Mandy answered.  
  
"That was three weeks ago!" Matt shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Can't she just forgive and forget?"  
  
"I don't know, Matt," Mandy said evenly, "that trait doesn't seem to run in that bloodline."  
  
Matt glared at Mandy as he slowly made his way out of the common room and towards Minerva McGonagall's office.  
  
For Matt, the journey to Professor McGonagall's office was akin to marching to your own execution. Yyou didn't enjoy the ride over there and it certainly wouldn't get better when you get there. Once arriving at the heavy oak double doors with the Gryffindor symbol emblazoned upon them, Matt harshly banged his fists on them. Within moments, Minerva McGonagall had opened the door, her gray-brown hair seemingly flying about in every direction.  
  
"Come inside, quickly." McGonagall said as she roughly shoved the boy into the office and placed him in the seat across from her desk.  
  
"What is it this time?" Matt grumbled as McGonagall moved to sit in the opposite chair. "I haven't pulled any pranks lately!"  
  
"That's not why you're here, young man. And as far as you not pulling any pranks, I'll believe that as soon as you can turn Malfoy back into a pig and get him to fly. I'm certain you've heard that the Yule Ball is in three days?" Minerva asked with a business-like tone. It seemed to Matt that Professor McGonagall was acting as if she was dealing with a lower life form.  
  
"Yes," Matt said dully, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
"And do you have a date?"  
  
"I'm working on it," Matt answered, quite annoyed that his privacy was so quickly invaded. The two stared at each other like dueling gunmen, neither one daring to look away.  
  
"Very well," she said as she picked up some loose papers and straightened them into a pile. "If you do not find someone to accompany you there I shall arrange one for your behalf. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Matt said flatly. "Crystal clear. Is there anything else you want to irritate me with?" Professor McGonagall simply ignored Matt's flippant remark.  
  
"It's also come to my attention that you've been spending a great deal of time with some of my students. I hope you do not corrupt them with your complete lack of discipline." Matt frowned at such a low comment. It was enough to insult him, but he'd be damned if he allowed anyone to say something bad about his friends. Trying in vain to keep his anger in check, Matt slowly rose from his chair and put his hands on the professor's table, his sharp gaze never leaving McGonagall's eyes.  
  
"I promise that I'm not doing anything to them that you can't ruin, old lady!"  
  
"One more statement like that and you will be serving detention, young man!" McGonagall screeched, also rising to her seat in anger. "Now get out of my sight!"  
  
"Whatever." Matt mumbled as he stalked his way out of the office.  
  
"Don't let it get you down, Matt!" Ron said as he poured ketchup on his hash-browned potatoes. "If you want my advice. . ."  
  
"I sincerely doubt that," Hermione said, causing Matt and Harry to nearly snort into their cereal.  
  
"As I was saying before I was interrupted by this annoying shrew," Ron said pointing his fork at Hermione, "I think I'll help you spend the rest of the day looking for a date for the Yule Ball."  
  
"Shouldn't you worry about getting yourself a date, Ron?" Harry said in exasperation.  
  
"I am." Ron said with a smirk. "When Matt gets a date, he can hook me up with her pretty friend. That way I can kill two birds with one stone!"  
  
"Anyway. . ." Matt said, trying to ignore Ron's horrible suggestion. "What about you two? Have you got dates for the Yule Ball?"  
  
"Neville asked me yesterday," Hermione said dully while using her fork to play with her scrambled eggs. Neville was Neville Longbottom, one of Harry and Ron's roommates in the fourth-year boy's dorm. He was best known at Hogwarts for his unparalleled clumsiness and inability to perform the simplest of spells. He was a nice young man, but hardly the most viable candidate for a date.  
  
"I found out that Cho was going out with Cedric Diggory," Harry said glumly. Harry had a crush on the Ravenclaw seeker ever since his first Quidditch match with her in third year. Harry had spent the better part of a week working up the nerve to ask the pretty young Ravenclaw out to the Yule Ball and was shattered when he discovered that she already had a date. It only made matters worse when he discovered that the person she was going with was Cedric Diggory, a sixth-year Hufflepuff who also happened to be one of Harry's rivals in the Triwizard Tournament.  
  
"I honestly don't understand what she sees in him," Hermione said in reference to Cedric.  
  
"Well, Hermione," Ron said with his mouth stuffed with porridge, "he is a very good Quidditch player."  
  
"So what if he is?" Hermione said in an absurd tone. "Viktor Krum is a good Quidditch player and you don't see me fawning all over him!"  
  
"But Cedric doesn't look like a river troll either," Matt mumbled.  
  
"If Cho Chang can't see Harry for what he is," Hermione said raising her voice, "then she's not good enough for Harry!" The table remained quiet for a moment after Hermione finished speaking. Ron and Matt were too busy trying to hold in their laughter while Harry and Hermione were trying their best to avoid each other.  
  
"And just who is good enough for Harry, Hermione?" Ron asked slyly.  
  
"I'd say they make a wonderful little item, don't you think?" Matt added. "It reminds me of an old song. You remember the one I'm talking about, right Ron?  
  
"Absolutely!" he responded, wrapping his right arm around Matt's shoulders. "Harry and Hermy, sittin' in a tree."  
  
"That's enough!" Hermione snapped as Harry blushed profusely. "I'm going to the loo while you two fools try to repair what's left of your sanity!"  
  
"Hermione," Matt said sweetly, "you know as well as we do that there's nothing left to repair."  
  
Hermione threw her hands up in frustration and hastily stomped her way to the nearest bathroom, leaving an almost giddy Matt and Ron alone with a very quiet Harry Potter. The black-haired boy with the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead gave a serious consideration towards jumping out of the nearest window. The long fall into the castle moat would surely be painful, but certainly not as dangerous as this.  
  
"Say, Harry." Matt said, his smile still shining bright. "Why don't you ask Hermione to the ball?" Harry looked as if Matt had just asked him to kiss a Hungarian Horntail.  
  
"Yeah, Harry." Ron said in complete agreement with Matt. "That way you could have a date to the ball that you could talk too and Hermione can get out of taking Neville."  
  
"I don't know. . ." Harry said slowly, clearly wanting to avoid discussing the idea. "I don't want to give anymore for Rita Skeeter to write about her. Your mum already thinks that we've been going out for years, Ron."  
  
"We're not asking you to marry her, Harry!" Matt said. "If anything, you should go out together just so you can throw it back into that git Skeeter's face!"  
  
"And if Draco says anything bad about you two at the ball," Ron said with a smile, "Matt and I'll just beat the stuffing out of 'em!"  
  
"You'd do that anyway," Harry told the two troublemakers.  
  
"But this time we'd have a good reason to!" Matt said with a grin. "Come on, Harry! You wouldn't rather see Hermione out with Neville, would you?"  
  
"Yeah, I've seen Neville dance. Hermione's feet doesn't deserve that kind of abuse," Ron said with mock seriousness. "And besides! You know she wouldn't look that bad if she put even a slice of effort into it." At that comment, Harry nearly spit into his porridge.  
  
"If you think so highly of her, Ron, why don't you ask her out?" Harry said in a tone that was a mixture of shock, anger, and just a touch of nervous tension.  
  
"Are you joking, Harry? She'd talk my ear off!"  
  
"It doesn't help the fact that Harry is intelligent and you're just an obnoxious dope who never knows when to shut up." Matt said quietly.  
  
"As if you're any different!" Ron spat back as Harry laughed. If anything, the argument had turned him away from being the center of attention.  
  
"Anyway," Matt said, a bit reluctant to avoid insulting his red-headed friend further, "we just think it would be a good idea if you two went together to the Yule Ball."  
  
"Indeed," Ron said, once again on the same course as his Ravenclaw friend. "In fact, we'll leave you two alone so you can have the proper atmosphere to ask her out. What do you say, Matt?"  
  
"A smashing good idea, Ron! Let's head for Snape's dungeon so we can get our latest detention assignment!" Matt said as he and Ron gathered up the remains of their breakfasts and began to quickly march out of the Great Hall.  
  
"Hey! Wait a minute!" Harry shouted to his two friends. However, even if they did hear the young man's cries, neither had given any indication that they had.  
  
Several minutes later, Ron and Matt were making their way down to the dungeons to learn of their latest detention punishment. They had gotten in trouble for turning Pansy Parkinson's hair red and blue with one of Matt's potions a week ago and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were more than happy to allow Professor Snape to decide their sentence. It seemed even colder in the dungeons these days, the brisk winter air seemingly pushing their way through the sturdy Hogwarts walls.  
  
"You still think that it was a good idea to try out that potion on Pansy?" Ron asked while suppressing his shivering.  
  
"Hey! I was just trying to show off my patriotism! Rule Britannia!"  
  
Surprisingly, Ron didn't have anything to say to that. Soon enough, the two young boys had shifted over to another topic.  
  
"Just whom are you taking out to the Yule Ball, Matt?" Ron asked. He had noticed that the Ravenclaw had shied away from the question the several occasions he had asked him and he was now determined to pry an answer from him.  
  
"Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about that one, old buddy!"  
  
"All right, then. So who's the unlucky girl?" Ron said, a bit too excited about the forthcoming answer.  
  
"Well, Ron." Matt said in a very familiar slow tone as he turned away from Ron's attentive gaze. Matt always seemed to use it whenever he was about to say something that he would have liked better to be left unsaid. "I was going to ask you if it was okay to ask you sister out."  
  
Ron didn't answer. In fact, he had stopped moving, leaving Matt to take a few moments to back up to face him.  
  
"Um, Ron. Are you still there?"  
  
Still no answer. Still no movement. Even Matt didn't think that the results would be this bad.  
  
"Would you at least say something, Ron!" Matt yelled. Only then did Ron start to move, his head slowly turning and his eyes locking up with Matt's.  
  
"You and my sister?" Ron asked flatly.  
  
"Come on, Ron! What's wrong with me taking out your sister? I've seen her in the Care of Magical Creatures class. I taught her how to ride a hippogriff. She can take care of herself and I promise I won't do anything!"  
  
"You turned Draco into a pig, you turned Pansy Parkinson's hair blue and red, and you sneak around Hogwarts all hours of the night. What makes you think I'm going to trust you with my sister!!"  
  
Matt had been friends with Ron's little sister since the start of her third year. And, until this point, Matt had been smart enough to keep his friendship with the youngest Weasley a well-kept secret. The only person who knew about it was Hagrid, who allowed them to play with some of the creatures of the Forbidden Forest. If it was one thing that Ginny and Matt shared with one another it was their love for animals. Not to mention that Matt had a thing for redheads. He loved watching her auburn-red curls flutter about through the night winds. It had taken quite a bit of courage to ask Ron for permission and he certainly didn't like his chances after witnessing the initial reaction.  
  
"Could you at least think about it, Ron?" Matt asked in a surprisingly shy manner.  
  
"Forget it, Matt MacDougal! If I ever see you around my sister I'll see to it personally that you'll regret it."  
  
Matt was about to offer his angry response towards Ron's outlandish threat but he was interrupted by a cold laugh behind him. Both Ron and Matt whirled around to spot a dozen Slytherins, headed by Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, staring at them with their wands drawn.  
  
"Well, at least those two gits have gone off to bother somebody else!" Hermione said to Harry. She had returned from the loos just moments after Matt and Ron had made their exit from the Great Hall. Harry had been about to storm off after them until he spotted the bushy-haired bookworm. Of course, he wasn't about to leave Hermione alone in the Great Hall. Harry didn't view himself as the smartest guy around but he did know that you shouldn't leave a woman alone at the table.  
  
It was ungentlemanly, after all.  
  
"I mean, honestly, can you imagine what the Slytherins would say if they saw the two of us together at the Yule Ball? And that silly tart Rita Skeeter would just have a field day with it!"  
  
"I can picture it right now!" Harry said while he took a swig of pumpkin juice. "Oh! Look at the poor Boy Who Lived and the keeper of his heart! Such a beautiful story!"  
  
"Beautiful enough to make me friggin' vomit," Hermione muttered while Harry tried desperately to hold in his laughter. "And just what is so funny, Mr. Potter?" Harry took a couple of deep breaths before responding.  
  
"It's just hilarious when you talk like that," Harry said smiling.  
  
"Just be grateful that you are able to see me in such a manner," Hermione said haughtily. "I don't often extend this courtesy to members of the general public."  
  
"Well, I'm honored, Mrs. Granger." Both of them were laughing at the ridiculously formal conversation they were having. It was such a far cry from the harsh insults and uproarious behavior that took place when Matt and Ron were with them. The moment was something that was only for them. A brief and unimportant moment perhaps, but a moment nonetheless.  
  
"Of course," Harry said slowly, "I don't see anything wrong with having you as a date."  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way!" Hermione responded hastily, "It's just that it just seems silly for two friends to go out on a formal date just because we don't have anyone else to go out with."  
  
"Absolutely!" Harry said with a tone that he hoped indicated a strong sense of finality. "I'm certain that we could get a date for the ball by our own efforts."  
  
"Precisely!" Hermione said merrily, "Like I said before, if Cho Chang thinks Cedric Diggory is better than you then you're too good for her!"  
  
"Thanks," Harry said, his prominent blush and shy smile once again resurfacing.  
  
For some reason, Hermione always got a kick out of watching Harry smile. It was as if smiling was something he was trying to remember how to do. Indeed, after spending ten years with people like Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Hermione could hardly blame him. It wasn't as if she was some lovesick twit, however (she would never allow herself to stoop to such a state). She just liked watching Harry smile. That was it. No more. No less.  
  
Hermione would have spent some time contemplating over her lack of romantic interest in Harry if she hadn't have caught something in the corner of her eye. Draco Malfoy seemed to be leading a group of about a dozen Slytherins out of the Great Hall. The fair-haired Slytherin seeker had a look of frightening determination with an intensity that could rarely be matched. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Draco's friends/bodyguards, were closely trailing behind him, both of them with their wands out. Hermione could smell trouble from a mile away, particularly when Draco Malfoy was the source of it, and this situation just reeked of it.  
  
"Harry," Hermione whispered urgently, "where is Malfoy going?" It took Harry a few moments to spot Malfoy's entourage who had now exited the Great Hall.  
  
"Looks like they're headed for Snape's dungeons," Harry said, his sharp, emerald eyes spotting the group's every move. Like Hermione, Harry had spotted the cold grin on Malfoy's face and it nearly sent chills down his spine. The last time he had seen that grin Draco had nearly framed Hagrid for a hippogriff bite he suffered in class.  
  
"But, didn't Matt and Ron say they were going to the dungeons?" Hermione said, more of a realization than a question.  
  
Without another word, Harry had taken his wand out of the pocket of his robes and rushed towards the dungeons with Hermione right on his heels.  
  
"I don't see what's so wrong with your sister going with Matt, Weasel," Draco said with a gleam in his ice-blue eyes. "It's not like that little runt of a girl could do any better!"  
  
"Maybe he could help your family pay for some better clothes!" Pansy Parkinson chimed in, her rat-like voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard to Matt. Matt had calmly grabbed the hem of Ron's wizard robes to prevent the hotheaded Gryffindor from charging the whole lot of Slytherins.  
  
"I liked you better when you were a pig, Malfoy," Matt said calmly. "At least then you didn't act like such an asshole."  
  
"Pretty brave when they've got us outnumbered!" Ron shouted in defiance, his previous conflict with Matt now long forgotten.  
  
"Big words from little fools," Malfoy said coolly. "I hope you enjoyed those little pranks you two have pulled against us, because you're about to be paid back in spades."  
  
"We've got you outnumbered six-to-one. What makes you think you can beat us! Nobody's going to interrupt us down here."  
  
As much as Matt hated to admit it, Draco was quite right. Snape didn't start Potions classes until 11 o'clock on Fridays and it was only 9:30 when they had left the Great Hall. Matt figured that he and Ron, under normal circumstance, could have at least held off the Slytherins until someone broke it up at another time, but they had little chance of escaping unscathed now.  
  
"These walls are quite soundproof Weasel," Draco said continuing his taunting. "You're free to scream for your fat-arse mum as much as you want." All of the Slytherins howled with laughter at Ron's furious face. Matt now had to use both arms to hold back the enraged Gryffindor. After a bit of rustling between the two, Ron settled down and hastily pulled out his wand.  
  
"If it's a fight you want Malfoy, then it's a fight you'll get!" he said while Matt followed suit beside him.  
  
'If we're gonna get burned,' Matt thought, 'the least we could do is give them some scars to remember us by.'  
  
In response, Malfoy simply shrugged his shoulders. "If that's how you want it. Get them!"  
  
"Hold it right there Malfoy!"  
  
Draco wheeled around and was greeted by the determined scowls of Harry and Hermione, each of them with their wands at the ready.  
  
"Typical strategy for you, Malfoy," Hermione said coldly, "let's see you take on all four of us." Draco nearly spat on the ground in frustration.  
  
"I've always wanted to hex you mudblood. Now I'm going to get my chance. Cremare!"  
  
A white-hot bolt of fire streamed out of Draco's wand, heading straight for Harry. Before Harry could even react, Hermione had snagged the hem of Harry's robes and yanked him out of the way of the blast, missing him by inches. Matt had taken the interlude to hit Pansy Parkinson with a Full-Body Bind while Ron searched for some adequate cover in the Potions laboratory that Malfoy and his gang had caught up to them. Malfoy, now realizing that his foes had unknowingly put him in a pincer position, barked orders to Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco's friends on the Slytherin Quidditch team to take cover.  
  
The Slytherins may have outnumbered Ron, Matt, Harry, and Hermione, but it was often the quality of the magician rather than the quantity that won the day. Only Malfoy himself could match Harry and Matt's sheer agility and battle instinct. They proved it by darting about the room, frustrating the Slytherins with their evasive antics. Hermione's knowledge of offensive charms was second-to-none among the students at Hogwarts. While Harry and Matt attracted a majority of the Slytherins' attention, Hermione had already used this knowledge to take down a majority of the Slytherins with the use of well-placed hexes. Ron, although not possessing the physical or intellectual gifts, simply relied on his own hatred of Malfoy to see him through. After several minutes of fierce battling, the only Slytherins that were able to battle were Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy.  
  
The two brutes, obviously believing that brawn would serve better than brains in this instance, both dropped their wands and, making troll-like battle cries, charged headlong towards Ron and Matt. Matt simply pointed his wand to the ground.  
  
"Tremoris!" he cried as his wand gave off a bright orange glow. Upon saying the words, the entire dungeon began to shake causing the two husky Slytherins to stumble and crash onto the hard, stone floor. Ron immediately followed suit by using a Tickling charm on them to impair Crabbe and Goyle further. Malfoy, seeing that he was the only Slytherin still standing, did the only thing that came to his mind.  
  
"Stupefy!" Malfoy cried while aiming his wand at Hermione. A blinding flash of red light was now screaming towards Hermione.  
  
"Stupefy!" Hermione countered, sending her own stream of red-hot light out of her wand, colliding with Malfoy's. For the briefest of moments, the two rivals eyes were both locked solely on their duel, a true contest against wizards. The power of the two spells seemed to create their own fireworks display in the dimly lit dungeon.  
  
"You're not going to win mudblood!" Draco screamed in defiance, the sweat on his forehead sliding down his chiseled face.  
  
"She doesn't have to beat you, Malfoy." Harry said evenly.  
  
WHAP!  
  
In the midst of the duel, Matt had snuck behind Malfoy and delivered a double axe-handle, causing Malfoy to topple like a sack of meal. The instant Matt had made contact, the beam from Malfoy's wand sputtered into nothing, causing Hermione to break her hex moments after. The clamor that had invaded the dungeon only several minutes ago was now reduced to the wild laughter of Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were still very under Ron's magic.  
  
"Are you two all right?" Harry asked from the staircase leading into the dungeon.  
  
"Thanks to you two we are," Matt said gratefully, "that's another one I owe you."  
  
"Think nothing of it," Hermione said slyly as she pocketed her wand. "You can pay us back by thinking of a good way to dispose of Malfoy here."  
  
"Perhaps you should place him under my care," came a slow drawl from behind the students causing all the three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw to jump. There was good reason to be alarmed, for the voice belonged to the pallid-faced Severus Snape.  
  
"We're in trouble now, aren't we?" Ron whispered to Matt.  
  
"Silence, Weasley!" Snape barked as he turned his attentions to his students, most of whom had broad smiles on their faces despite the various curses and spells they had been placed under. Without speaking to anyone, Severus pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Draco.  
  
"Eneverate," he said tonelessly while a wave of green light emerged from his wand and surrounded the unconscious flaxen-haired Slytherin. Within moments, Draco was once again awake, albeit with a horrible headache. However, for all the pain Draco was experiencing, it was all worth it to him for seeing the frightened expressions on his enemies' faces. Meanwhile, Severus was stalking about the room, performing various counter-curses against the other Slytherins, not saying a single unnecessary word. Once that work was done, Snape's hawk-like eyes swiftly turned to meet the eyes of nearly everyone in the room.  
  
"I'm quite disappointed in you," Snape said maintaining his unhurried burring.  
  
"We're very sorry about this Professor. . ." Hermione said in an amazingly quick fashion.  
  
"I wasn't talking to you Granger!" Snape said, his voice only slightly louder. "I was talking to Malfoy." Malfoy, to his credit, looked as if he had just heard Snape ask to marry Harry.  
  
"Me?" he asked bewildered.  
  
"You had these students outnumbered three-to-one and you couldn't even scratch them. You should've been well aware that these two fools would have come to their aid," Snape said while pointing to Harry and Hermione, never laying his eyes off Malfoy. "A truly pathetic display of tactics and a complete lapse of judgment under fire." Draco couldn't even get a word out of his mouth in response.  
  
"Thirty points from Slytherin." Snape said turning away from Malfoy. Everyone in the room was now completely bewildered. Snape taking away points from his own house was like Harry fighting alongside Voldemort himself. It just didn't happen.  
  
"But, Professor Snape," Pansy Parkinson stuttered.  
  
"Would you prefer I make it fifty, Miss Parkinson? Now get out of my sight, all of you!" As if they were all just turned on by some imaginary switch, each of the dozen Slytherins hurriedly picked themselves up and hustled upstairs. Harry and Hermione were about to see if they could do the same thing until a nasty look in Snape's eyes rooted them to their spots. As soon as all the Slytherins had made their exit, Snape continued again.  
  
"As for you all, allow me to congratulate you on a job well done." Snape said with an even smirk.  
  
"Thank you very much, Professor." Harry said in disbelief.  
  
"So much so that I am only going to take off fifty points from both of your houses." This punishment quickly sent the four students rushing back into reality. "Get out of my dungeons before I expel all of you."  
  
Harry, Matt, Ron, and Hermione rushed out of the dungeons and back into the Great Hall with no further prompting.  
  
"It will take weeks to make up for the points we lost!" Hermione hollered as she and Harry made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room after several hours of studying in the library.  
  
"Cheer up, Hermione!" Harry said merrily. "At least it was for a good cause."  
  
"Laying waste to the Slytherin fourth-year students is hardly what I would call a good cause."  
  
"Well," Harry said warily, "would you like me to make it up to you?" Hermione abruptly stopped upon hearing that.  
  
"What do you mean, Harry?"  
  
"What I mean was that, um, how about we just go to the Yule Ball together? You know, if that's okay with you." Hermione's coffee-brown eyes were hard pressed to stay their normal size.  
  
"Well, if you insist. Why not?" Hermione answered, for once not really knowing the correct answer to a question.  
  
"You sure it wouldn't be too much trouble?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not at all Harry! What are friends for?" Hermione said quickly, hoping that Harry didn't catch her hands that were shaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. By now, the two had not even noticed that they had arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had a very intrigued look on her plump face.  
  
"Escorting the young lady on a moonlit stroll, Mr. Potter?" the Fat Lady asked with a cheeky grin causing Harry and Hermione to both blush profusely.  
  
"Not at all, madam," Hermione said crossly, although Hermione couldn't really understand why she spoke to her in such a tone. "Balderdash."  
  
"Fair enough," the Fat Lady said with a wave of her hand as she moved aside for the two friends to enter the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
"Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, Harry." Hermione said with a bashful grin, "Good night."  
  
"Good night." Harry whispered.  
  
Meanwhile, our two other heroes were engaging in somewhat less innocent activities at The Three Broomsticks with the help of Harry's invisibility cloak and about two-dozen glasses of butterbeer.  
  
"Ya shoulda seen the way we 'andled 'em blokes," Ron slurred to Madam Rosmerta, who was the only person that had bothered to pay attention to the two youths for the last hour. "Knocked 'em right on their arses!"  
  
"I believe you, Ronald," Madam Rosmerta in a tone that obviously indicated otherwise. "So, do you two have dates for the Yule Ball coming up?"  
  
"'Fraid not," Matt said dismally, his head still slumped onto the table.  
  
"Women are foolish, I tell ya'" Ron said while he launched a clumsy punch toward Matt's shoulder. "I mean, honestly! Two perfectly good- looking fellows with no dates a week before the ball!"  
  
"I just can't imagine why," Madam Rosmerta added dryly while she polished several empty glass tankards. However, the sarcasm was missed by Matt and Ron, who were too wrapped up in their own sorrows to pay attention to anyone else.  
  
"And what about Harry?" Madam Rosmerta asked quietly, "does he have a lady for the ball." Only then did Matt feel the need to rise up from the table and give a bleary glare towards her.  
  
"Don't start about 'Arry!" Matt garbled. "We set 'im up with Herm- own-ninny!" Ron once again punched Matt in the shoulder.  
  
"That's not her name! It's 'Her-my-oh-nee'! 'Onestly Matt. You can't pronenciate properly!" Madam Rosmerta, who had quite a bit of experience in dealing with young love-starved wizards, simply decided to ignore their stupidity.  
  
"Harry and Hermione would make such a darling couple," Madam Rosmerta said with a smile as she prepared a butterbeer for one of the goblins sitting at the bar.  
  
"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" Matt and Ron said at the same time. Then they both glared at each other and started to argue over who truly thought that Harry and Hermione would make a good couple. After two minutes of a truly stirring display of argumentative prowess, Matt and Ron were back to their original topic; who was the most attractive girl at Hogwarts. Madam Rosmerta simply shook her head in response to the bizarre pair.  
  
'Those two seem so much like James and Sirius,' Rosmerta thought wistfully.  
  
"Well, I personally think that Lavender is better looking than Parvati," Ron said as if he were discussing the decay of human morality.  
  
"Please!" Matt said while he took a swig of his butterbeer. "Parvati's arse is ten times better lookin' than Lavendar's."  
  
"The only reason you think that is because you just don't have good taste," Ron shouted.  
  
"Well, at least I wasn't stupid enough to ask Fluer Delaclour out to the ball!" Matt hissed while Ron's ears turned an amazingly bright shade of red. "Honestly, you stupid prat, what were you thinking?"  
  
"Well, what about Hermione?" Madam Rosmerta asked simply. Matt and Ron looked as if they had both been forced to swallow a gallon of cod-liver oil.  
  
"That's disgusting!" Matt yelled.  
  
"I agree, ol' buddy!" Ron said vigorously. "I just don't see what Harry sees in her."  
  
"But didn't the two of you convince Harry to ask Hermoine out?" Madam Rosmerta asked with her eyebrows raised. It took quite a while for either Ron or Matt to summon the amount of brain cells to provide an answer to the question.  
  
"Well, that just, um, got's nothing to do wit' it!" Matt answered.  
  
"Yeah!" Ron shouted in response.  
  
"Anyway. . ." Matt said as he placed his tenth tankard of butterbeer back on the wooden bar table. "Do you want to know who I really think is cute?"  
  
"Who's 'at?" Ron asked hazily.  
  
"Ginny."  
  
Ron's eleventh tankard of butterbeer fell to the floor with an angry crash while his face turned a disturbing tint of scarlet.  
  
"STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!" Ron howled as he chased Matt out of The Three Broomsticks and into the Hogsmeade night, drawing quite a bit of attention from the other patrons.  
  
'Too much like James and Sirius,' Madam Rosmerta thought as she calmly picked up a stray broom and went to work on Ron's broken tankard.  
  
Well, that's the end of the chapter and I'm quite pleased the results. Of course, my ever-friendly readers are more than welcome to agreeing or disagreeing with me. And, no, I am not planning on turning this into a romance piece. The mere thought of doing such a thing makes me shudder. Well, before I forget, let me do the preview for the next chapter.  
  
It's Christmas time at Hogwarts and that means it's time for the Yule Ball! Harry and Hermione are set to go out, but are they going as just friends or something more? And what about Ron and Matt? Will they be able to recover from their stupor to get their shit together and get a date? Find out the answers to these and more in the next installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery, Fun Times at the Yule Ball. Don't miss it! 


	5. Fun Times at The Yule Ball

Hello, everyone! I hope everybody is enjoying their summer thus far (or winter or fall to our transatlantic and transpacific cousins). I'd like to welcome my readers to Part 5 of my story, Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery. I would also like to remind everyone that reviewing is a divine exercise that will surely give you good karma once your day of judgment is upon you (I always wanted to say that!). That, and I'll review some of your stories too. And remember, no matter how hot the sun may burn in my humble abode, flames are always welcome. And now, the disclaimer.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Really, I don't. You know, the whole practice of this disclaimer seems kind of counterproductive to me. After all, what would J.K. Rowling, who is already a multi-millionaire in her own right want to interfere with the actions of a 21-year-old frittering away his spare time? Don't worry about my speculative mood; I'm sure it will fade by the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 5: Fun Times at The Yule Ball  
  
The spirit of Christmas was alive and well in the Gryffindor common room as the cheery, young witches and wizards scurried about to gather their gifts. A titanic pine tree festooned with baubles and other extravagant decorations dominated the southwest corner of the room. The December snow was falling at an amazing rate outdoors, but the roaring fires and the sturdy granite walls of Hogwarts turned the snowstorm into nothing more than a harmless attraction for the students.  
  
Of course, to say that this festive atmosphere within the Gryffindor common room was something positive was quite debatable. The excitement in the air only seemed to intensify the already rambunctious nature of many of the Gryffindor students. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were at the center of the common room playing a highly competitive and highly dangerous game of Exploding Snap. Poor Neville Longbottom has already misplaced his toad Trevor (Ron said Neville had broke his old record, much to Hermione's annoyance) and was currently engaged in a frantic search to find him. Meanwhile, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet, Harry's female teammates on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, were heading up an extremely loud gab session that had attracted all but two of the female Gryffindors.  
  
"Why must they always go about like bloody fools?" Hermione Granger asked, her before-shower brown hair looking like a flattened tornado.  
  
"Don't worry about it too much," answered Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister. "You've got all the company you need right here!"  
  
"That's right!" Ron said enthusiastically, his bright orange Chudley Cannons cap looking spectacularly repulsive upon his red-haired head. "After all, what's Christmas but a time to celebrate with the people you care about the most!"  
  
"Then why are you here with us, Ron?" Harry asked with an playful grin while Ginny and Hermione giggled.  
  
"You're just jealous because of my stunning new headwear," Ron said airily while grasping the rim of the hat he received from Harry for a Christmas present. "Honestly, Harry, if you wanted it so badly you should have just kept it for yourself!"  
  
"I hope you don't plan on going outside with that on Ron," Hermione said from her cushy armchair. "You may frighten the local wildlife." That caused Harry and Ginny to laugh even louder. Ron just shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Ah, what do you know about taste?" He asked Hermione cheekily. "You're going with Harry to the Yule Ball after all."  
  
"Hey!" Harry and Ginny both shouted while the entrance to the Gryffindor common room slid open, revealing Fred and George Weasley. The roguish twins had their arms full of treats that they had doubtlessly received from the house-elves. In their Christmas tradition, they were wearing each other's sweaters that they received from their mother every Christmas. It was quite an irritating tradition for many of the Gryffindors, since Fred and George would often pull a malicious prank to the people that didn't refer to them as Gred and Forge during the day.  
  
"Can't you two quit sneaking around Hogwarts for just one day?" Hermione asked in frustration. "If only for the spirit of Christmas?"  
  
"Oh, come off it!" Gred said with a smile. "Besides, if we hadn't have gone out today, we wouldn't have found this fellow." And, with that said, a third figure popped up behind Fred and George, a very welcome and familiar figure at that.  
  
"Matt!" Harry and Ron both exclaimed. The young Ravenclaw, whose arms were full of badly wrapped presents, gave an amiable smile in return to his friends' calls.  
  
"Thanks Gred and Forge for your always timely assistance!" Matt said in a disarmingly soldier-like fashion.  
  
"Anything to help a fellow prankster," Forge said while he ran across the room to give his little brother a playful noogie.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Matthew." Hermione said with a slight grin. "I see you've put Harry's invisibility cloak to good use."  
  
"It definitely beats making an invisibility potion," Matt said as he handed the silvery mantle back to Harry. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."  
  
"Don't mention it." Harry said merrily. "And, in return, here's your gift."  
  
"Hey! I've gotta hurry up and see what it is!" Matt said as he handed out his presents to Harry and Hermione while Ron and Hermione handed their gifts to him in return.  
  
"Hey! What about our presents?" Forge asked.  
  
"Just consider my not telling Professor McGonagall who put those Cornish pixies in her desk last month as my Christmas present to you two," Matt said with a smirk.  
  
"All right!" Forge said audaciously. "And our not telling Professor Vector who turned his skin blue last week will be our Christmas present to you!"  
  
"I knew we could work something out!" Matt said as he unwrapped his present from Harry. "Harry! This potions set must have cost you a fortune!" Matt shouted as he pulled out several cleanly rolled balls of spider silk. "How on earth am I going to make this up to you?" He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.  
  
"Just promise you won't kiss me and I'll be fine," Harry choked out, quite a bit uncomfortable in Matt's sturdy grip.  
  
"Thank you for the new Transfiguration book, Matt!" Hermione said cheerfully as she held up a rather thick book of insanely complex incantations. "I haven't found the time to read this one."  
  
"A book that Hermione hasn't read!" Forge said while his hands flickered up to his cheeks.  
  
"Will wonders ever cease?" Gred chimed in, much to the amusement of the others.  
  
"That joke just gives me a new excuse to try these spells out on you, Gred and Forge," Hermione said serenely as Matt unwrapped his present from Hermione. The present was an incredibly vast astronomy map, was complete with stars that were enchanted to move along in accordance to their lifelike counterparts. Matt stared in awe of the gift as the Big Dipper seemed to shine at him.  
  
"That's so you don't have to try to copy off of my Astronomy exams in Professor Sinistra's class any longer."  
  
"Why thank you, my bushy-haired, formerly bucked-tooth study partner!" Matt said as he and Hermione gave each other a friendly embrace. Meanwhile, Gred and Forge were applauding Matt over his gift to Harry.  
  
"One-thousand and One Ways to Cause Trouble with Magic," Harry read off the cover.  
  
"I figured it was another thing I could do to help you become a smart- ass troublemaker like me, Harry!"  
  
"I'm sure it will make an excellent doorstop," Hermione quipped.  
  
"Who invites you to our gatherings anyway?" Ron asked in mock annoyance.  
  
"It has to be Harry, Ron," Matt said simply. "Apparently the only reason they keep us around us is to better avoid the temptation of putting their hands all over each other."  
  
That comment was quickly met by Harry and Hermione throwing some nearby pillows while Ron, Gred, and Forge guffawed wildly. Ginny, meanwhile, just blushed quietly and watched the goings-on.  
  
"Flying with the Cannons, Ron?" Matt said as he held up his present from the lanky fourth-year.  
  
"It's like your present to Harry," Ron said. "It'll help motivate you in the right direction." Hermione, as she often did, groaned in frustration at the two.  
  
"I really don't understand why I hang out with the two of you," she said dully.  
  
After a predictably immoderate Christmas brunch in the Great Hall, Harry and his friends were tromping about the freshly fallen Christmas snow. The atmosphere was so enchanting that not even Hermione could resist taking part in the annual snowball fight, which turned into a five-on-five with Matt and Mandy Brocklehurst, Matt's date to the Yule Ball, along with the usual group. Matt, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were on one side while Gred, Forge, Mandy, Angelina, and Katie on the other. Within a half- hour, the air around Hogwarts was filled with the excited cries of ten playful witches and wizards, each of whom were finding their own way to enjoy the thrill of not having to deal with schoolwork, if only for a little while.  
  
Ron was quite watchful of the times Matt and Ginny were hunched side- by-side with one another. He even took a couple of unnecessary snowballs because of it. His little sister certainly seemed to enjoy Matt's company, which, needless to say, was something that needed to be taken care of immediately. After all, what are big brothers for if not to protect their innocent little sisters?  
  
However, Ron's suspicions of Matt temporarily faded when Matt, Harry, and Hermione handed him their Christmas present to them. Much to Ron's shock, it was a racing broom, a classic Silver Arrow at that. Ron spent much of the rest of the afternoon flying about the Hogwarts grounds whooping like a maniac while Gred and Forge followed him around in their Cleansweeps while trying to pelt their little brother with snowballs.  
  
"Man!" Ron said with exultation as he hit the ground. "I've got my first broom and tonight I'm going to the Yule Ball with a veela. I don't believe life can get better than this!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's mention of his date for the evening. Apparently Matt had somehow, with the help of a fantastic introduction, managed to get Ron a date with one of the veela who were staying in the Ravenclaw common room for the year due to the Triwizard tournament. Matt had done it in the hope that Ron would abandon his almost maniacal quest to keep Ginny away from him, but it was obvious that seed had yielded very few crops. The veela's name was Marie Courant, a sixth-year who celebrated her seventeenth birthday just before she arrived at Hogwarts. Ron was now being touted around school as the second luckiest man in Hogwarts (next to Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain who had somehow managed to get a date with Fleur Delaclour).  
  
"I've never seen such a prominent example of somebody so over his head, have you Gred?" Forge asked while ruffling Ron's hair.  
  
"Don't complain, Forge. It'll be fun watching him crash and burn." Gred countered as Harry, Matt, and Hermione laughed.  
  
"I don't care what any of you say!" Ron shouted. "Nothing is gonna bring me down today! Nothing!"  
  
"Famous last words," Hermione whispered to Matt, who just sniggered in response.  
  
"Come on, Peter!" Lily Evans cried as she finished wrapping her silky, red hair into an extravagant bun. "Come out of there! You can't look that bad!"  
  
"This is Wormtail we're talking about Lil'" Sirius Black said as he fiddled with his top hat. The self-claimed "master of pranks" had opted to wear a handsome tuxedo to the ball over the standard dress robes.  
  
"With him, anything bad is very possible."  
  
"One more joke like that Padfoot and I'll stick that ponytail of yours right up your repulsively large nose!" Peter yelled through the door leading into the Gryffindor boys' dorm. Soon after the good-natured retort, a 16-year-old Peter Pettigrew emerged wearing a rather shabby set of green dress robes that were once worn by his father. He personally thought the robes were a little big for him, even after considering his own slightly pudgy frame. However, Peter was not about to let the state of his robes get him down He had a date with Christina Abbott, a seventh-year Hufflepuff whom he had a major crush on since his third-year and he was going to give everything he had to make sure that she had a good time. And, if he had to hang Padfoot up on the steeple of the North Tower in order to do so, so much the better.  
  
"You look great, Peter!" Lily said as she straightened out some of the wrinkles in his robes.  
  
"You sure you don't want some of my advice when it comes to the ladies, Wormtail?" Sirius asked with a lecherous grin.  
  
"I think Wormtail would want to get Christina to like him, Padfoot, not make her run as far away as possible." Remus Lupin jibed from the top of the staircase.  
  
"You're just jealous because you don't have my animal magnetism," Sirius said while maintaining his broad grin.  
  
"If you mean 'animal magnetism' in the terms of you as a canine, I think Wormtail would do best to stay away from that." James Potter said, who was also decked out in a black and white tuxedo, much to Lily's approval.  
  
"Well," Sirius said as he began marching down the stairs, "why are we all still standing around here? We've got to go pick up our lovely company for the ball! Come on, Moony! You too, Wormtail!"  
  
"Just to remind me," Remus said as he adjusted the collar to his dress robes. "How many dates do you have tonight, Padfoot?"  
  
"Just the three I told you about earlier," Sirius said with an impish grin while Lily, who was now arm-in-arm with her future husband, rolled her eyes in mild annoyance.  
  
"Sirius, you're a walking Fellini movie," Lily said with a patient sigh.  
  
"Who's Fellini?" Sirius asked.  
  
"It's a Muggle reference," Peter said as he leaped down the last two steps and started making his way to the portrait of the fat lady. "I do have a question for you though, Sirius."  
  
"What's that, Wormtail?" Sirius inquired innocently.  
  
"Am I going to have to bring some flea powder for you tonight or do you have some in your pocket?"  
  
It took a beat for the joke to set in for Remus, Lily, and James, but by that time Sirius was chasing Peter out of the common room and towards the Great Hall.  
  
Thirty-seven year old Peter Pettigrew was snapped out of his reveries when a snowflake landed on his tiny, pink nose. He had watched the entire scene the moment Harry and his friends had left the Hogwarts gates. However, as much as he wanted to linger on about times past, he was sent here to do a job, and he wasn't about to fail. So, little Scabbers began his slow trot towards Hogwarts, his unusually long tail dragging behind him in the deepening snow.  
  
Matt and Mandy were making their way to the Gryffindor common room to meet with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Matt was looking quite resplendent in dark-blue dress robes while Mandy had chosen to wear an all-black dress that caused Matt to joke to others that he was taking a Goth girl to the ball.  
  
"Just remember who is bailing out who in this situation, Matt," the honey-haired Ravenclaw reminded him as she teasingly placed a delicate finger onto Matt's chin.  
  
"Touché," Matt said with an amiable grin.  
  
After several minutes of traversing through the incredibly crowded and lavishly decorated Great Hall, Matt and Mandy had somehow managed to stumble their way towards Gryffindor Hall, where Ron and his date were waiting for them. Ron had somehow managed to take off all the frills in his hand-me-down dress robes while Marie looked so stunning in a tight ivory-white gown that it seemed Ron couldn't pay attention to anything else. Personally, Matt thought the gown made the half-veela look like a high-class woman of ill repute, but he wasn't about to say that to his disturbingly giddy friend.  
  
"Harry and Hermione have already gone ahead," Ron said with a beaming smile. "We'll catch up to them after the dinner. Let's go!"  
  
And, with these excited comments, Ron had grabbed a hold of Marie's left arm and proceeded to nearly drag her into the Great Hall. Matt and Mandy, both giving the girl a look of extreme sympathy, quickly followed behind the very unlikely pair.  
  
Once the quartet had made their way back to the central corridor and proceeded to push their way into the Great Hall, Matt and Mandy went out into the gardens where dozens of fairies were displaying their colorful magic to create a truly gorgeous sight. Matt was impressed so much with the sight that he pondered out loud on what it would be like to be a fairy.  
  
"I'm not sure elfin ears would go with your dress robes, Matt." Mandy said saucily as she shook some of the fairy powder from her hair.  
  
"Don't rob me of my joy, Mandy." Matt said with a sour smirk as he peered into the throng of students lined up in front of him before the doors of the Great Hall. "Have you seen Hermione yet?"  
  
"She's probably at the front with Harry and the professors," Mandy answered. "Guess we'll just have to wait until the feast to find her."  
  
"Sorry if I'm not going to be the kind of company you were looking for tonight Mandy," Matt said repentantly. Mandy just shrugged her shoulders and gave her fellow Ravenclaw a bright smile.  
  
"Just promise to save me a few slots on your dance card and we'll call it even," Mandy said simply. "It's too bad you couldn't get Ginny to come with you." Matt blew out his breath and softly ran a hand through his slicked-back brown hair.  
  
"I'll think of something," he said with a downhearted manner.  
  
"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall called over the loud talking of the collective student body. "All students please make your way into the Great Hall and be seated."  
  
Quick to get his Christmas dinner started, Ron kept his firm grip on poor Marie's hand as the two made their way towards one of the tables at an incredible pace. Mandy simply shook her head while Matt did all he could to avoid bursting out in laughter.  
  
"Think we should sit at Ron's table, Matt?" Mandy asked unceremoniously.  
  
"If only to make sure he doesn't make a complete fool out of himself," Matt answered while he politely offered his arm to his friend. "Shall we go, madam?"  
  
"Why certainly, monsieur." Mandy said as she accepted the offer and the two Ravenclaws made their way into the Great Hall.  
  
The walls of the Hall were covered with sparkling silver frost that seemed to fall from the sky. Dozens of garlands of mistletoe and holly accompanied the frost while the stunning and starry black Great Hall ceiling provided much of the light in the vast dining hall. Festive lanterns were on each table to provide even more light for the young witches and wizards. Even Matt could not avoid applauding along with the rest of the students at the great efforts that had been made to make the Great Hall look wonderful. After quite a bit of struggling, Matt and Mandy had managed to find Ron and Marie's table near the front of the Great Hall. Ron, bless his heart, was already stuffing himself with whatever he could get his hands on while Marie seemed to stare at her date as if she were dealing with a wild man.  
  
"This is really great!" Ron cried to Matt and Mandy, his mouth stuffed with mashed potatoes and gravy. "Ask for anything you want to eat and it'll just appear right on your plate!"  
  
"Hermione is going to have a field day with this," Matt said as he stared at his empty plate. He was expecting Mandy to make a smart-ass comment about Hermione's stance on house-elves, but his friend was otherwise occupied with something going on at the head table.  
  
"Matt, there's Hermione!" Mandy shouted in a shocked voice as she pointed to a young woman that Matt couldn't quite recognize. Once he put two-and-two together however, his eyes went wide.  
  
Indeed, the elegant young lady who was sitting next to Katie Bell, Viktor Krum's date for the evening, was none other than Hermione Granger. Her suddenly silky brown hair was tied up into an elegant knot that Matt thought made her look like a young duchess, a far cry from her normally bushy curls. 'She must have used a potion on her hair to straighten it out,' he thought. She was wearing light cerulean dress robes that seemed to mesh wonderfully with Harry's emerald-green robes. Matt had expected her to be shouting angrily about the work the house-elves had to go through to make this dinner possible, but instead found her and Harry chatting amicably to Viktor Krum, who seemed to be telling them about the surroundings of the Durmstrang Institute from what he could hear and read. It took quite a while for Matt to adjust himself from the shocking sight but, once he did, he looked at Mandy with a devilish grin.  
  
"I CAN'T WAIT TO TEASE HER ABOUT THIS ONE!" Matt shouted with triumphant glee. Mandy shook with laughter and partial embarrassment at her friend's enthusiasm.  
  
"I won't have you saying a bad word to her about this!" Mandy murmured urgently. Matt just ignored Mandy's warning for now, however.  
  
"And she said that she wasn't going to do anything for the ball!" Matt rambled on as he banged his fists upon the table. "This is too good to be true!"  
  
"Matt, if Hermione wants to impress Harry, that's her business and her's alone," Mandy whispered angrily. With those words, Matt gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders.  
  
"All right. All right." Matt said pretending to relent to his friend's wishes.  
  
"What on earth are you two talking about?" Ron asked indignantly as he tried to get Marie to sample a treacle tart.  
  
"Go back to eating Ron," Matt said flatly while he raised his glass of pumpkin juice and gave his friends a silent toast.  
  
'Good luck, you two.'  
  
"Ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," Viktor Krum was telling to Harry and Hermione. "Zer are only four floors, but our grounds are larger than even these! Ve don't enjoy them much in the vinter but you should really see zem in the summer!"  
  
"It truly sounds wonderful, Mr. Krum." Harry said with a polite grin.  
  
"Call me Viktor, Harry," the Durmstrang champion said while he took a swig of butterbeer. Harry didn't imagine the Quidditch star as much of a talker. Since his arrival at Hogwarts, Krum was either in the library reading alone or skulking about around the Durmstrang ship. However, it seemed that Viktor Krum had another, more excitable side to him.  
  
"Now, now, Viktor!" said Igor Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang said with a grumbling laugh, "don't go giving away all of our secrets."  
  
"I'd love to visit there sometime," Hermione said, her dazzling white teeth seeming to sparkle in Harry's eyes. "It would be nice to see another wizarding school besides Hogwarts!" she exclaimed as Harry nodded in agreement.  
  
"You act as if you've seen everything there is to see here, Miss Granger!" Albus Dumbledore said good-humoredly. "I hope you won't go running off from Hogwarts. Miss Granger is quite the remarkable student, Igor, if you didn't know." Hermione turned scarlet from Dumbledore's shining compliment. Harry, meanwhile, was now trying his hardest to tune out the loud complaints of one Fleur Delaclour, the champion from Beauxbatons. Like she had done many times since she had arrived from Beauxbatons, she was criticizing every little thing aspect about Hogwarts that came to her mind, from the magical suits of armor to Peeves, whom she had dubbed as a "'orrible monstrosity". For one moment, Harry found it hard to believe that Roger Davies could even stand to be next to her. Then he took a look at her striking silver-gray robes and at her luxuriant hair, causing Harry to understand Roger's real reasoning.  
  
'Best remind myself to never date a veela,' Harry thought with bemusement before Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulder and pointed across the Great Hall towards Hagrid, who was wearing his favorite brown moleskin suit and had his hair slicked back with what appeared to motor oil. Even Harry couldn't avoid giggling a bit while he gave the Hogwarts gamekeeper a small wave, which Hagrid was happy to return.  
  
"Looks like he's really trying to impress Madame Maxine," Harry said, referring to the headmaster of Beauxbatons who was, like Hagrid, uncommonly tall and strong.  
  
By eight o'clock, the Christmas dinner was over and Dumbledore used his wand to remove every one of the vast dining tables from the Great Hall in the blink of an eye, much to the amazement of the students and several of the professors. What once was a dining room for nearly several hundred witches and wizards was now a dance hall that made the Palace of Versailles look humble. Once that seemingly simple task was over, Dumbledore went on to introduce the house band for the night, The Weird Sisters, much to the joy of many of the young men and women in the Great Hall.  
  
The sight of The Weird Sisters was obviously not something Harry was expecting. Sure, he had seen many rock-and-roll bands thanks to the Dursley's television but he had never seen one that looked so incredibly, well, complex. There were seven members, each one wearing a black school robe that seemed to be torn apart by angry lions. Harry couldn't imagine why someone would choose to wear something like that, it looked extremely uncomfortable. The number of instruments that the band was preparing was also quite shocking to Harry. There were electric guitars and drums but also a saxophone, keyboards, a cello, and two extremely colorful sets of bagpipes. Harry was so shell-shocked that he gave a slight jump when Hermione gave him a light tap on the shoulder.  
  
"Shall we dance or would you prefer that we remain at the table?" Hermione asked cheerily with her eyebrows raised. Harry was a bit tremulous to the idea of dancing in a public place, let alone with someone else, let alone with that somebody being Hermione.  
  
"Sure we can't stay at the table?" Harry asked sheepishly. Hermione just gave Harry a gentle smile as she extended a small, well-manicured hand.  
  
"I'll lead the way," she said softly with a confident smile while Harry gradually rose from his chair and took Hermione's hand. Ignoring the sniggers from Seamus and Dean and the wolf whistles from Gred, Forge, Matt, and many of the Slytherins, Hermione and Harry made their way to the center of the dance floor hand-in-hand. Once they arrived, The Weird Sisters began to play a slow tune that Harry could not even imagine how to dance to.  
  
"Don't be so stressful, Harry," Hermione urged gently.  
  
"I'm not much of a dancer, Hermione," Harry said, completely spooked.  
  
"Put your left hand on my hip, Harry," Hermione requested, which Harry quickly complied with. Much to Hermione's relief, Harry seemed to relax quite a bit more with this and his shy smile finally emerged from its apparent hiding place. Soon, Harry was confident enough to keep up with Hermione and began to dance in a fashion that Harry could not have dreamed possible.  
  
"Harry's doing well," Mandy whispered in approval.  
  
"Be a shame to let him do this alone though," Matt said while nodding his head. "Shall we show them how it's done?"  
  
"Absolutely!" Mandy said with enthusiasm as Matt took her hand and guided her to the dance floor.  
  
It had been two hours since the first dance had begun and Harry still hadn't managed to sum up the nerve to ask for a break. However, Harry wasn't sure that this reluctance was due to his newly found dancing abilities or the fact that it was Hermione he was dancing with. Her chocolate-brown eyes were twinkling like the fairy lights in the Hogwarts gardens and her smile was beginning to make his heart flutter. Simply put, Harry thought that she looked wonderful.  
  
'You think she looks wonderful all the time,' a little voice said in the back of his head.  
  
"You're doing a great job, Harry!" Hermione shouted gleefully as she drew closer and whispered in Harry's ear. "I think we're even making Draco jealous."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile at that comment and spun Hermione around to go along with the fast number that The Weird Sisters were playing. Harry had quite a few wonderful days during his three-and-a-half years at Hogwarts: his first Quidditch match, the day Gryffindor won its first House Cup, and the discovery of Sirius Black as his godfather, but this day ranked right up there with them. It had nothing to do with him saving the world, learning about magic, fighting Malfoy, Snape, or Voldemort, or being different from everyone else. This day was about Harry and Hermione having the time of their lives in the center of the Great Hall dancing the night away.  
  
'It doesn't get much better than this.' Harry thought with a smile.  
  
Meanwhile, the suddenly unfortunate Ron Weasley had gotten himself in trouble. It appeared that his lack of composure on the dance floor had pushed Marie past the breaking point and the half-veela appeared to be having her revenge by embarrassing him in front of the entire student body.  
  
"I don't understand zwy I came wit' you tonight. It eems you jus' go out of your vay to humiliate me. Also, your 'obes are so 'ideous zat you look like a vagabond."  
  
Ron, who was now about as red as a tomato, was trying his best to make himself as small as possible while Marie chastised him about everything under the sun. Draco Malfoy was one of the first students that had noticed Ron's humiliation and was now trying everything he could to rub it into his face.  
  
"Thank God that your mum isn't here to see you blubbering like this," Draco hissed while Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him. "You would disgrace your family name more than you already have!"  
  
"Oi! Malfoy!" Gred called out as he made his way to the scene of the argument with Angelina Johnson in tow. "Keep talking about Ron like that and I'll ram your slime-filled head down the nearest toilet."  
  
"Oooooh!" Pansy Parkinson shrilled as she latched onto Draco's arm, "'ittle Ronniekins is being protected by his big, older brothers.  
  
"You're as pathetic as they come, Weasel." Malfoy sneered.  
  
"Try to say that in front of me," Angelina huffed while her shoulders bristled. It seemed that the Gryffindors and Slytherins were about to fight until they were interrupted by a loud crack resonated from Dumbledore's wand.  
  
"As much as I am supportive of competition between the houses," Dumbledore remarked while looking straight at Malfoy, "For the interest of everyone here, I would like Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley to put their rivalry aside for tonight." Malfoy, knowing there was nothing to gain by continuing, gave an angry huff towards Ron and returned to the dance floor with Pansy clinging to his arm. Ron, meanwhile, was in the midst of slumping out of the Great Hall until Matt, Hermione, and Harry caught up with him.  
  
"Are you alright, Ron?" Hermione asked sympathetically. It took poor Ron a while to register just who was asking him the question.  
  
"Is that you, Hermione?" Ron asked with a stunned expression on his face. "You look bloody fantastic!"  
  
"What about me, Ron?" Matt asked with a shocked expression on his face. "I think I look pretty damn good tonight!" Ron gave Matt a misty grin.  
  
"No, Matt, you just look as hideous as you always do." Both Matt and Harry gave a big grin at that and gave their redheaded friend a hug, which Ron accepted gratefully.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Ron!" Gred said smiling from behind the quartet. "No matter how much of a failure you are in romance, you've always got your family!"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said with a lump in his throat, "but I don't want to dance with any of you!"  
  
"Then let's get you some butterbeer, Ron," Harry said as he wrapped an arm around Ron and then he turned back to Hermione. "Is it all right if I sit the next one out?"  
  
"Don't worry Harry, my boy," Matt said with a sleazy grin as he snaked his arms around Hermione's waist. "She's already got an upgrade." Hermione didn't even bother to look at the Ravenclaw.  
  
"Please hurry back before I'm forced to kill him," she said flatly without missing a beat. Harry waved back while he, Gred, and Forge guided Ron towards the refreshments table. "Well," Hermione sighed as she gave Matt a sour glance, "I might as well get this over with."  
  
"Flirt." Matt said flippantly, which caused Hermione to break her expression and chortle. Without another word, Hermione and Matt walked back to the dance floor while The Weird Sisters, who didn't seem to be even close to being on the verge of slowing down after roughly two hours of playing music, starting playing a slow waltz tune. While many of the students looked at the musicians with befuddlement, Hermione and Matt simply shrugged their shoulders and began to dance.  
  
"Well, milady," Matt said while the first bagpipe made its presence, "allow me to say that you look even more lovelier than usual tonight."  
  
"Why thank you, kind sir," Hermione responded as she continued to lead the way.  
  
"And allow me to be the first to say that it did quite a significant number on Harry. I never knew you had it in you."  
  
"Would you stop!" Hermione hissed as she nearly stomped on Matt's feet. "I'm only doing this so Harry would have a date for the ball!"  
  
"Is that all?" Matt asked impassively as he twirled Hermione around. "I wonder how many times you've said that to yourself tonight." Hermione's angry gaze had once again returned after a two-hour absence.  
  
"I'm not here to talk about my romantic life. I'm here to help out with yours!" Matt couldn't help coughing a bit in shock at that remark.  
  
"Pardon me?" Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Not with me, you git! With Ginny!"  
  
"How on earth did you know about that?" Matt asked, almost scandalized that he had been discovered.  
  
"Mandy told me you've been watching Ginny dance with Neville for half the night. She said that you even winced whenever Neville stomped on Ginny's feet!" Matt scowled quite a bit over his friend's treacherous tongue. "Forget how we know about it and go find Ginny. Neville tells me that she's out in the garden watching the fairies."  
  
"What about Ron?" Matt asked urgently.  
  
"Don't worry about him!" Hermione whispered. "Harry and the twins have him occupied." Matt would have smiled about the open opportunity if he weren't so shocked about it. " Now you have no more excuses, Matt. Get out there before I have to drag you out there!"  
  
"Aye aye, ma'am," Matt said with a warm smile, "and thank you." And, with those last words, Matt began to walk quickly out of the Great Hall while Hermione watched him go.  
  
Virginia Weasley loved the smell of the night air as it seemed to wash over her. The fairies were putting on a wonderful show and she was enjoying it immensely. She ran a weathered hand through her straight, red hair as she continued to gaze at the fairy lights and the stars above them. Parvati and Lavender had insisted that Ginny should do something with her hair to make her look exotic, but Ginny made it clear to the both of them that she would have none of that. She wasn't exotic, nor would she ever pretend that she was, and that was perfectly fine by her.  
  
'If only Harry shared the same feelings,' Ginny mused quietly as she removed her right shoe to rub some of the soreness of her feet that had been created from Neville's frequent stumbling on the dance floor. Don't get her wrong, she enjoyed Neville's company and liked him very much as a friend, but it was Harry that she truly had eyes for. But, alas, it seemed that his heart belonged to another. One of her best friends, no less.  
  
Again, don't get her wrong, she was more than happy to see Harry and Hermione getting closer, but she would almost give anything to put herself in Hermione's place. Then, giving a brief sigh to the night, she returned to rubbing her aching feet. 'Perhaps I could spend my time better teaching Neville how to dance,' she thought.  
  
"The pursuit of war is indeed a quest most foul, but the pursuit of love is one of utter stupidity," Ginny called out to the fairies who certainly didn't seem to be paying any attention.  
  
"It's never a good sign when you're quoting Voltaire at a ball," Matt said quietly. "Some silly git would start to thinking about putting arsenic in your tea." Ginny was wearing reddish-pink dress robes that most people would have thought made her look rather homely. Matt, however, thought of her as nothing less than a scarlet-haired vision. He wasn't about to tell her that, he wasn't that bloody stupid! Ginny whirled around in shock to spot the source of the new voice, only to be relieved that it came from somebody she knew.  
  
"Had a rough night with Neville?" Matt asked with a Cheshire-cat grin on his face. It wasn't the most effective of first lines in the history of getting a girl to like you, but it definitely seemed to suit him. Ginny just gave a shy giggle as she continued to rub her feet.  
  
"It's what I get for dancing with a man with two left feet," Ginny answered casually. "And where is your date tonight?"  
  
"I think she's trying to get a dance with Cedric," Matt said with a timid smile and he took a seat on the bench besides Ginny. "Looks like Cho has quite a grip on him though." There was a long silent pause before Matt summed up the courage to say something else. 'He always seemed to have plenty to talk about when we're out gallivanting around with Hagrid!' Matt thought angrily. 'Why can't I think of anything now?'  
  
"You, um, look nice tonight," Matt stumbled.  
  
'Good job! You've got her eating out of the palm of your hand!' his inner voice teased him.  
  
"Thanks," Ginny said as a slight blush began to form on her cheeks. "You look pretty handsome too."  
  
"Thanks," Matt sputtered. This was obviously not part of Matt's intricate plan.  
  
"It's so beautiful out here," Ginny said with an blithe grin as she stood up off the bench that they had been sitting on as she made her way to the fountain. "I think it looks even nicer than the decorations on the inside."  
  
"Yeah," Matt said, still rooted to his seat on the bench. "It's real nice. Um, would you like to, well, you know. . ."  
  
"What?" Ginny asked calmly.  
  
"To dance?" Matt squeaked out. Ginny breathed a bit while she ran her hands through the water in the fountain before she replied.  
  
"That may be a little difficult. There isn't any music, Matt." Ginny said dully. It took a bit for Matt to realize that it was quite true. The heavy, oak doors that separated the main grounds to the school itself was an effective sound barrier between the solitude of the gardens and the music inside. Once again, another part of Matt's master plan was quickly ripped asunder. Fortunately, he somehow managed to improvise another idea and attempted to express it in an incredibly charming matter.  
  
"Well, um, you don't really need music to dance, y'know." Matt said with all the grace and romantic flair of a drunken vicar. "I can sing to you." Ginny perked up significantly at that idea.  
  
"I'd like that!" Ginny said with a grin as she moved back towards the bench. Matt couldn't seem to find the ability to get up and join her, however. Ginny had a very unsure look on her face as she asked, "This isn't going to be once of those seated dances, are they?"  
  
"Um, no," Matt said as he made an incredible effort to will his legs to get into action. He finally succeeded and Ginny took Matt into her arms and began a slow dance.  
  
It took quite a bit longer than expected for Matt to get his singing voice up and running, but he finally managed it after about a half-minute of dancing. A low, mournful baritone began to resonate from the Hogwarts gardens.  
  
"Heaven, I'm in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."  
  
It wasn't the most stunning rendition of the song that Ginny had ever heard, but the emotion behind it almost seemed to stun her. Then, without really knowing that she did it, Ginny began to stretch her legs slightly so that her cheek would touch with Matt's. The young man continued to sing.  
  
"Heaven, I'm in heaven. And the cares that hung around me through the week. . . seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak. When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."  
  
Try as he might, Matt couldn't seem to think of the next verse, but it mattered very little to either of them. The two were dancing around the sparkling fountain to music that was only their own. The fairies stopped their playful magic to watch the young couple, many of them giggling in admiration. It took quite a while for the music in Matt and Ginny's minds to stop as they finally pulled back from one another.  
  
"That was lovely," Ginny choked out as her azure eyes threatened to drown Matt. It took quite a bit of time for Matt to remember the next step in his surprisingly improvised master plan.  
  
"Ooh, that reminds me," Matt said as he dug into one of the pockets in his blue dress robes. Before too long, he had pulled out a small present out of one of the side pockets. It seemed to have been wrapped cautiously, as if he didn't want to make the slightest mistake. "I forgot to give you your Christmas present." Ginny gave Matt a look that had an ample mixture of shock and horror.  
  
"But, Matt," Ginny stammered, "I didn't get you anything!"  
  
"Oh, that's all right," Matt said as he slowly handed his gift to the youngest of the Weasleys. "Don't worry about it." Ginny didn't look quite ready to accept Matt's forgiveness, but she gently took the gift from Matt's hands and slowly unwrapped it. Inside was a mahogany box about eight inches long.  
  
"It's a music box," Matt said, finally once again mustering the courage to look back into Ginny's eyes. Her eyes seemed to shine as she stared at the gift.  
  
"It's wonderful," Ginny said softly as she cautiously opened the box. A slow, little tune began to emanate from the humble music box that sounded quite a bit like a serenade.  
  
"My grandmother told me it was a song she used to sing to me as I fell asleep. I can't remember the words really, but it always seemed to relax me." This time it took a while for Ginny to respond.  
  
"Thank you," Ginny whispered as she and Matt continued to stare at one another, quite heedless of their surroundings.  
  
"So. . ." Matt said while blushing slightly, not being able to think of what to do next.  
  
"So. . ." Ginny responded. "It's getting rather late. Perhaps I should get to bed for tomorrow's classes."  
  
"Perhaps you should," Matt said gently. And, with that little goodbye, Ginny began a slow march back into the Great Hall. As she opened the door, she turned back to look at Matt, a small, but unbelievably magnificent smile on her face.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Matt." Ginny said as she closed the door behind her.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Ginny." Matt whispered long after Ginny had shut the door.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry was escorting Hermione back to the Gryffindor common room so they could get some sleep. The two of them walked side-by-side, neither one making physical contact with the other. Both of them, for all their intelligence, had no idea what to do in this situation. Should they hold hands? Should Hermione lean against Harry's shoulder? Should they race each other down the corridor? Should they just yell like maniacs until everyone thought they were barking mad? There was no book that could tell them what to do now.  
  
The Fat Lady was kind enough to let them in without saying a word and the two Gryffindors continued to trudge their way to the stairway that separated the boys' dormitory from the girls'. It wasn't until Hermione began to ascend the staircase until she turned around to say something.  
  
"I. . . had a really nice time tonight, Harry," Hermione said, her elegant hair beginning unravel itself and return to its normal, bushy state, as if Cinderella was losing her magic.  
  
"I did too," Harry said as he ran a hand through his unkempt black hair. Hermione giggled a bit at that.  
  
"Maybe we can find our own dates to the ball the next time around," she said with a bashful grin.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "It would be real embarrassing to go out with each other the next time around! Real, um, embarrassing."  
  
"Yes. . ." Hermione said, suddenly losing her train of thought while looking into Harry's emerald eyes. "Well, look on the bright side. Tomorrow it will be back to the normal routine."  
  
"Yep, back to Snape taking points and Moody going on about constant vigilance and Ron and Matt pulling pranks and, well, back to normal."  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, finally being able to break away from Harry's puppy-dog like gaze. "Well, good night Harry." Turning back towards the stairs Hermione rushed for the girls' dorm not daring to look back. The periwinkle blue robes and the bouncing brown hair reminded Harry of an angel he had once dreamed about back at Privet Drive.  
  
"Good night," Harry whispered after the door to the dormitory slammed shut.  
  
As Harry made the slow, solitary walk up to the boys' dorm, he was unaware that somebody was watching his every move. A pair of deep black eyes continued to pore over Harry as he opened the door into the boys dormitory and shut it quietly so as not to wake Ron or Neville. The observer then went back to a vision of a similar looking young man with unruly black hair and a scraggly body conditioned by Quidditch and a red- haired bookworm who was just beginning to learn about love. The observer then looked up to the roof of the room where he had spent much of his adolescent years and made a silent prayer to the stars.  
  
"Dear God," Peter Pettigrew said with tears clouding his eyes, "please don't let it happen again."  
  
"Pettigrew has informed me that there are some slight holes in Dumbledore's defense at Hogwarts owing to the arrival of the foreign schools," Voldemort said in a cold, high voice that could have sent shivers down the spine of even the greatest of wizards.  
  
"What do you wish of me, milord?" Voldemort's "visitor" grumbled, his immense frame nearly creaking the floorboards of Riddle's old home.  
  
"I want you to kill Hermione Granger," Riddle said simply. "She is clearly the young woman that Ravenclaw spoke of in her final prophecy. She is already a formidably strong witch for her age but she is still a weakling and we cannot allow her to become stronger. You will become accompanied by no one in this venture, for I am certain that you are capable of completing this task yourself." The big man grumbled in assent at that.  
  
"Why not assign Crouch to the task, milord?"  
  
"I don't want my loyal servant to reveal his identity until the proper time has come."  
  
"And what of the boy, milord?"  
  
"YOU WILL DO NOTHING TO POTTER!" Voldemort screamed in a manner that would have sent most Aurors running for the hills. The big man did not even move a muscle. Voldemort was clearly impressed by the man's reaction. "He must remain alive to play a part in my glorious revival."  
  
"Indeed, milord, but I was referring to the other boy in the prophecy." Voldemort gave a cruel smile at that statement.  
  
"So you wish to finish the job you started, old friend? Very well, you have my permission to be rid of him as well. Just remember that the mudblood is your primary target. Do not fail me simply because you wish to carry out a debt of blood! Do you understand?"  
  
"Indeed, milord." The tower of muscle said with a sadistic grin on his face. A colossal double-bladed battle-axe materialized by his huge hands and he took a hold of it. He swung it around as if it were nothing more than a child's plaything, imagining himself hacking into the limbs of the young witch and wizard. Once that deed was done, the man roared a hunter's cry into the silent night of Little Hangleton.  
  
"Allow me to assure you that Hermione Granger and Matt McGonagall are as good as dead!" Macnair said.  
  
Well, that about does it for the romance portion of this little short story, and I'm happy to see it end. My thanks to the beautiful song "Cheek to Cheek" written by Irving Berlin and originally sung by the late, great Fred Astaire. It's always been one of my favorite songs although I've never had the guts to sing it to a woman. Oh well, a man can dream, can't he? Oh well, here's the chapter preview.  
  
It's New Year's Day at Hogwarts and things don't look good for our young heroes. Macnair is making his return to Hogwarts, and he ain't coming to take care of a hippogriff this time! And, what about the Triwizard Tournament (what, did you think I forgot about it?)? Is Harry finally going to take some time out to figure out the mystery of the golden egg? And what about Peter Pettigrew? What is his role in the events to come? Find out the answers to a few of these questions and more in the next climactic chapter: Myrtle, Moody, and Macnair! Thanks for reading! 


	6. Myrtle, Moody, and Macnair

I'd like to welcome everyone to the sixth chapter of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery. Please regard the emergency exits located to the left and right at the front of the piece and remember to fasten your seatbelts before reading. If any of you readers are offended by the corny delivery of this greeting/introduction, allow me to remind you that the flight attendant could not care less. Once again, we hope you enjoy your reading experience today and remind you that you can review this fan fiction simply by clicking the button at the bottom of this manuscript. On behalf of everyone at Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery, thank you for reading.  
  
Disclaimer: Although I know many of you will be shocked to believe this, but I don't own anybody in the Harry Potter universe. Not a thing. I'm not even certain if I own the character that I've inserted into it! I'll have to check with my attorneys on that one. Ciao!  
  
Chapter 6- Myrtle, Moody, and Macnair  
  
Peter Pettigrew was at his fifth birthday party when he was first asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. He never said that he would be something fancy like an alchemist or a dragon tamer. He was more of a realist than children twice his age. Even back then, he figured he would graduate with slightly-above-average marks at some wizarding academy, perhaps Hogwarts, go into a ho-hum desk job at some wizards business, and spent much of the rest of his life filing papers and performing actions that no other man or woman would pay attention to or care about. Even after he met Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, he never even thought that his life would be fraught with action, adventure, or peril and, to be brutally honest, he quite liked it that way. He was a lover of stability if nothing more.  
  
Yet, here he was deep within the bowels of his old school searching for even the slightest chink in the acclaimed armor that was Albus Dumbledore's defense of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had spent the last two weeks searching throughout the school for anything useful he could find while no one had even the slightest clue that he was there. His decision to "look in" on Harry at the night of the Yule Ball was a bit risky, but it was quite a rewarding experience. However, his entire trip to Hogwarts was more of a refresher course if anything else. After all, he had spent much of his life at the acclaimed institution. From his days as an actual student and as a constructor of the infamous Marauder's Map to his twelve years as the Weasley family's beloved pet rat Scabbers, Pettigrew knew more about the mysteries and secrets of the school better than even Albus Dumbledore himself. He was a spy, the best the wizarding world had seen in many decades. He had only been caught once doing his work in nearly twenty years and that instance only occurred due to a product of his own making.  
  
Of course, it was the ultimate purpose of his centrifuge that seemed to truly irk him tonight. He was searching for a safe entrance route so that Macnair, Voldemort's insanely powerful executioner, could enter Hogwarts unnoticed and assassinate Hermione Granger. Peter took another solid gaze at his crudely constructed of Hogwarts and the route that he had selected for the muscle-bound madman to employ, an underground passageway that had been dug over a hundred years ago that was used to escort soldiers back to safe ground after skirmishes with Grindewald's Army. He nibbled on a slice of ham that he had liberated from the kitchens while he carefully folded his picture of him, Sirius, Remus, Lily, and James back into one of the pockets of his robes. Macnair was scheduled to arrive tomorrow and it now seemed the opportune moment for Peter to make his timely exit, but he still couldn't force himself to do it.  
  
'There's something more to do,' Peter thought as he transformed into his rodent-like counterpart and searched for a safe place to rest for the night.  
  
"You mean to tell me that you STILL haven't found out the Triwizard clue!" Hermione nearly screamed while Harry almost seemed to cower in forgiveness. Just after the first task in the tournament, Harry and his three rivals were given a clue for solving what the labors they must endure in the second task. Unfortunately, Hermione was under the impression that her best friend had already solved the clue whereas, in reality, Harry didn't have the slightest clue. Procrastination was a crime of nigh- unfathomable proportions in the court of Hermione Granger, and the young Gryffindor with the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead was now paying the penalty in the frenzied ambiance of the Hogwarts Great Hall.  
  
"I thought I would have figured it out before you found out!" Harry nearly cried as he continued his cowering. He hadn't been this frightened since he was looking into the gaping maw of a vicious Hungarian Horntail.  
  
"Let him off easy, Hermione," Matt said in a brave attempt to turn Hermione's unbridled anger away from his friend. "He still has a month to figure it out. I'm sure he'll be able to manage it." Despite the wisdom in the young Ravenclaw's comments, they were harshly ignored by Harry's judge, jury, and executioner.  
  
"Somebody put your name in the Goblet of Fire for a reason, Harry!" Hermione hissed as her spoon pounded away furiously at her unbuttered, slightly burnt toast. "The more we know about the danger that you're going to get into, the better we'll be able to keep you safe."  
  
"You know, you're beginning to sound like Professor Moody," Ron said dully while he pointed an unused knife at his steaming, bushy-haired friend.  
  
"All you need is a peg leg, a third eye and just keep screaming 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE' in the halls and you'd be a dead ringer for him," Matt quipped as both he and Ron laughed.  
  
"This is serious!" Hermione yelled at her two light-hearted compatriots. "Harry certainly didn't enter this tournament on his own accord so somebody must be plotting against him."  
  
"Don't worry about me, Hermione," Harry said evenly while he placed a relaxed hand on one of Hermione's quivering ones. "It's not like I'm just going around blindfolded and asking for trouble."  
  
"You certainly don't act the part, Harry," Hermione said with a concerned huff. "If you're not going to worry about your own safety then someone else has to!" Hermione said while she tried to ignore the warmth of Harry's touch.  
  
"Look," Matt said as he placed down his silverware, "I'm certain that if we work together we can figure out the clue and keep Harry protected. Just trust me on this one." Hermione seemed to calm down a bit at that "So what is the clue for the second task?"  
  
"You mean you haven't seen it?" Ron asked with a forkful of scrambled eggs lingering near his lips.  
  
"What makes you thinks I should?" Matt asked back dully.  
  
"Well, Fleur has been working in your common room, hasn't she?" Ron asked while his eyes seemed to mist over as he thought of the silver-haired half-veela. Matt chuckled.  
  
"Ever since I hit her in the face with a pie it seems like she's lost interest in hanging out with me," Matt said while Harry sniggered and Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Sounds like typical behavior for you, Matt." Hermione said coolly. "You don't suppose that you could do with a little tact when it comes to dealing with women, do you?"  
  
"Why on earth would I want to hang out with something like you?" Matt said with mock exasperation as he took a big bite into his toast. "The last thing I need is a shrewish string bean with hideous hair yelling at me about every little thing I do." The cross look that Hermione after had in her eyes while dealing with Matt had once again returned. "I still don't know what Harry sees in you!" Harry gave a bright blush at Matt's last statement while Ron nearly exploded with laughter and Hermione fought back the strong desire to turn Matt into a chocolate frog  
  
"Can we please get back to discussing something sane for a change?" Harry asked in exasperation.  
  
"Sanity is a strange concept, grasshopper," Matt said in a codgery Oriental inflection.  
  
"A concept that you have no idea of whatsoever," Hermione countered.  
  
"To wit, Miss Granger," Matt said with an airy tone, "stuff it in your abnormally large ears."  
  
"Anyway," Harry said as he tried to play the subtle peacemaker between his two quarrelsome companions, "why do you think Professor Moody changed the class schedule to include all four houses in this weeks classes," Harry said. Professor Alastor Moody was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts and after a mere four months, he had acquired a reputation for being quite eccentric and unpredictable. In one memorable class several months ago, he had taught fourth-year students about the Unforgivable Curses, an action that still had many members of the Ministry of Magic, as well as many of the school's professors, wanting him to quit once the word leaked out. Many of the students, particularly in the Gryffindor house, respected Moody during his illustrious days as an Auror, but many of them were also frightened of the man.  
  
"He probably just wants to herd us all together to tell us another story about hunting death-eaters and punishing the guilty," Matt responded flatly. "I'll tell you this, he may know his stuff about the Dark Arts, but he's as flamin' nuts as The Daily Prophet says he is."  
  
"Given your opinion of The Daily Prophet, that's quite an interesting statement," Hermione told him while she picked up the front page of the wizard newspaper.  
  
"Just don't tell anyone," Matt said as he yanked the editorial page away from the rest of the rag. "For some strange reason, I feel the need to read Rita Skeeter." Before he could get into it, however, the busy breakfast table was greeted by another friendly face.  
  
"'Lo children," Hagrid said, the half-giant groundskeeper walking arm- in-arm with Madame Maxine, the headmaster of Beauxbatons. "I hope you're not readin' too much into that!"  
  
"We view it as an interesting break from reality," Harry said with a good-natured smirk.  
  
"Good morning, Hagrid, Madame Maxine," Hermione said happily as she folded her severely abused copy as best as she could. "Would you like to join us for breakfast?" Maxine, looking surprisingly elegant in an enormous bright-yellow robe with a silky white shawl, gave an amiable smile before responding.  
  
"No zank you," she responded in her thick French accent. "'Agrid an' I are simply seeing the zights."  
  
"Just don't let Hagrid get you near the blast-ended skrewts, Madame Maxine," Ron said with a mischievous grin. "They've been eyeing your horses for food for quite a while now." Madame Maxine laughed quite a bit at that while Hagrid tried to sputter an unnecessary apology.  
  
"I vill be sure to keep my eyes open," Madame Maxine said as she gave Ron a quaint bow. "It vas nice to zee you all again. I wish you luck in ze tournament, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Thank you very much," Harry said with a broad grin. It was nice to see Hagrid and Madame Maxine getting along so well. Hagrid patted Maxine's hand politely.  
  
"Would it be all right if I jus' spoke with 'em for a second?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Not at all, 'Agrid. I vill be at ze Ravenclaw table ven you are ready." Maxine responded with a winsome smile as she strode across the Great Hall to speak with Fleur Delaclour, her prize student.  
  
"Nice catch, Hagrid," Matt said slyly once he was certain Maxine was out of ear's reach. "You have to tell me your secrets, mate!" Hagrid's beetle-black eyes were filled with amusement as he gave a huge laugh that almost seemed to shake the Great Hall itself.  
  
"Now, Matt," Hagrid said while placing his massive left arm over Matt's shoulders. "Ye'll jus' have ta learn it fer yourself." Hermione smiled broadly towards Hagrid's attitude while Harry and Ron nearly put their fists in their mouths to stifle their laughter. With his enormous frame, moleskin overcoat, and nearly out-of-control beard, Rubeus Hagrid appeared to be the last person that anyone could have ever construed as a ladies' man.  
  
"I'm not certain if that's wise, Hagrid," Hermione said tartly. "Matt needs all the help he could get."  
  
"So says the obnoxious, holier-than-thou, bushy-haired bookworm," Matt responded tersely.  
  
"Now, now," Hagrid said, well aware of the frequent quarrels between the two, "there's no need to bicker. Um, speakin' on the matter Matt," Hagrid continued slowly, "how are things 'tween you and, well, you know." The friendly half-giant gave a sideways glance to Ginny, who was trying to look in on their conversation while pretending to make every effort to avoid it altogether.  
  
"Not as well as I'd like it," Matt murmured depressingly while Harry and Hermione both gave their friend a look of sympathy.  
  
"What are you talking about now?" Ron asked suspiciously while he spread some more peanut butter on the last of his toast. Hagrid and Matt seemed to panic a bit at Ron's sudden interest in their conversation.  
  
"Eat your food," Hermione said flatly. "The big boys and girls are talking now. No place for you."  
  
"Don't just leave me out of this!" Ron shouted angrily while his mouth was stuffed with bread, peanut butter, and strawberry preserves.  
  
"Well," Hermione said as she looked at her watch, "as much as I'd like to continue this wonderfully intelligent conversation with you Ron, we have Dark Arts to get to in ten minutes so we better hurry." In response, Matt and Harry quickly picked up their dishes and cleaned up the table while Ron tried desperately to get in a last bite to eat.  
  
"You kids better get movin' then," Hagrid said while he rose back up to his full height. "I'll see all of you later this afternoon fer class!'  
  
"Count on it, Hagrid!" Ron said.  
  
"Good luck with Madame Maxine! Sweep her off her feet!" Hermione added brightly. Hagrid merely blushed as he turned away and stomped his way to the Ravenclaw table. A few moments later, the four young students had cleaned their mess from breakfast and dashed off into the depths of the castle, where Professor Moody would surely be waiting for them.  
  
"Quickly get to your seats students," Alastor Moody grumbled, his magical blue eye blinking angrily at the throng of students as Matt, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way into the Defense of the Dark Arts class. Due to the number of students that would be occupying it during the next week, it seemed that Moody or Dumbledore had used a spell to turn the ordinarily small room into a large hall that could fit as many as 150 people. Draco Malfoy and his ilk sneered at Harry and his friends as they took their seats, his ever-present "Potter stinks" button that he had created at the outset of the tournament shining prominently on his black wizard robe. The four students had a bit of difficulty finding a seat in the suddenly enlarged room until Mandy was able to wave them over into four open chairs.  
  
"Do you know what on earth this could be about?" Mandy asked in a hushed tone while trying to avoid Moody's glaring.  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry responded as he plunked down into his seat and opened his notebook.  
  
As soon as the Professor Moody was able to hush the students, which he accomplished merely by making a soft growl that could be heard by everyone in the room, Moody retreated from the front row and circled around his desk. Watching Alastor Moody teach was much like watching a caged lion. You simply didn't know what was going to happen if it got the slightest amount of freedom. And, in this case, Moody had free rein.  
  
"I've brought you fourth-years here together," Moody began while his false leg made a dull clunk on the wooden floor after every step, "to further your knowledge on the Unforgivable Curses."  
  
There was quite a bit of murmuring that took place in the room after that comment. Some of the students whispered excitedly, expecting another example of their infamous class in the first month. Other students, such as Harry, Matt, and Hermione, whispered with voices of extreme concern. Some students, such as Neville Longbottom, were downright fearful of what was to come. No matter what the response, Moody took little heed of all of it and continued on.  
  
"You've seen the effects that these dangerous incantations can have on other animals, and you Gryffindors have seen what these spells can do to humans," Moody said with a terrifying grin. Harry fought back the urge to shudder in fear, remembering all too well of the time when Moody tried to control his mind with the Imperius Curse.  
  
"Now," Moody drawled, as he continued to pace about the floor, each and every student on his every move, "I'm going to show the students of the other houses what can occur when you are placed under the Imperius Curse."  
  
The noise level in the room spiked dramatically at that declaration, so much so that even Moody could not ignore it.  
  
"But, Professor," Draco Malfoy said shakily, "You can't put those curses on us! You'll go to Azkaban!" Ron gave a bitter chuckle at Malfoy's worried behavior. It was certain that Malfoy was definitely not worrying about Moody's future career as a teacher.  
  
"I'll have you know, Malfoy, that Dumbledore has given me the fullest permission to place you under the Imperius Curse during this week!" Moody barked, his cold smile still on his scarred face. "Allow me to assure you, however, that I promise to execute as much caution as I can when performing the spell. I'm here to teach you that magic can be fought. It's not some technique that you can read about in a book and learn. It's something that either you have or you don't. It's strength of character, Malfoy! IT'S ABOUT CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"  
  
Nearly the entire room jumped upon hearing Moody's words. Most of them had heard the wizened warrior violently shout with no real warning but the shock was still there.  
  
"Now," Moody said, calming everyone down a bit by finally ceasing his laborious movements back and forth, "Who would like to volunteer?"  
  
Needless to say, not a single witch or wizard volunteered to be submitted to such a dangerous technique. Most of the students were just trying not to make a sound, in the hopes that they could avoid Moody's attention and not be picked. Even some of the Gryffindors, who were well aware that they were not going to be chosen, had their heads down in their books and were not making a sound.  
  
"I will, Professor Moody," Matt's voice pronounced softly.  
  
One hundred and sixty-one eyes, plus Moody's magical pupil, were now focused on the young Ravenclaw. Harry and Hermione seemed to be trying to plead Matt to take it back while Mandy and Ron looked at the brown-haired boy as if he had gone insane. Professor Moody, meanwhile, gave Matt a scarred smile.  
  
"Good man," Moody said, nodding his head in approval. "Come up to the front of the class, Mister MacDougal."  
  
With the reserved calmness of an Azkaban prisoner, Matt lifted himself out of his desk and walked towards the front of the classroom. Malfoy gave the young man a dazzling smile, practically licking his chops at Matt's foolish decision. Matt's legs felt like jelly as he stood across from the acclaimed Auror who took his place across from him and produced his wand.  
  
"Let's see if you have what it takes, young man," Moody said while he pointed his wand at the boy in a menacing manner. "Imperio!"  
  
No light emerged from Moody's wand, but Matt felt as if he had been shot. He gritted his teeth to try to shut the monstrous yelling that seemed to attack him from every nerve.  
  
"Follow my command, boy," Moody said with determination, his spell not wavering a bit. "Leap onto the table!"  
  
Moody's grating voice bore into Matt's soul like a dentist's drill. He gritted his teeth to try to shut the monstrous yelling. He grasped his head with his hands with the strength of a vice. Drops of blood began to form at the bridge of the boy's nostrils and slid towards the wooden floor. His nearly animal instincts had kicked in trying urgently to fight the sheer intensity of Moody's spell.  
  
Harry looked at the scene in front of him with abject horror. He had managed to block the effects of the curse by avoiding its effects. Matt, however, was trying to fight the effects head-on, almost making it a battle of wills between the student and the teacher. A battle in which Matt had little, if any way, to defend himself.  
  
"Impressive," Moody confessed, his teeth gritted in concentration, "Let's see how well you can handle a larger dose, young man." Moody made a frenzied movement with his arm before he howled and cast another Imperio spell upon him.  
  
The sheer strength of Moody's spell was enough to buckle the Ravenclaw's knees and send him crashing to the floor. His normally hazel eyes seemed to be turning red under the immense physical and psychological strain. His skin, flushed with exertion, was an ugly shade of burgundy that horrified many of the students. A slight bit of foam was emerging from each side of the boy's mouth. The phenomenal display of resolve and determination seemed to be turning the boy into some kind of animal. Even Malfoy, who despised Matt more than anyone he thought possible, looked at the scene with shock and barely-disguised horror.  
  
"Stop it, Professor Moody!" Harry screamed while he and Hermione rushed to the front of the class.  
  
"Leave him alone, you madman!" Hermione howled. It was only then that Moody snapped out of his trancelike state. The scar-laden Auror blinked a few times in exasperation as he stared at the boy who fought him with a nigh unparallel force. Within moments, the cruel smile had once again emerged.  
  
"Are you all right, Matt?" Hermione asked worriedly while she tried to still Matt's trembling hands.  
  
"Jus' get me out of here," Matt pleaded hoarsely.  
  
"DID YOU SEE THAT!" Moody bellowed as he pointed his wand at Matt. "He did not move an inch! He did not back down for the slightest moment. Truly amazing, Mister MacDougal."  
  
Matt couldn't respond to Moody's unabashed praising. Harry and Hermione were by his side attempting to lift him back to his feet. Matt felt as helpless as a newborn child.  
  
"Thirty points to Ravenclaw for such an awe-inspiring effort, young man!" Moody continued as the two Gryffindors finally succeeded in hefting their friend back onto his feet.  
  
"We're taking him to the infirmary," Hermione said coldly, looking at Moody as if he were the most detestable creature she had ever laid eyes on. "Take off as many points as you deem necessary." That statement seemed to bring Moody back to his normal demeanor.  
  
"Very well then. Miss Granger, Mister Potter, see to it that Madam Pomfrey gives him treatment." Moody said as Harry and Hermione nearly carried their friend to the hospital wing.  
  
"What on earth is that maniac thinking!" Madam Pomfrey screeched as she gently applied a cold compress to Matt's throbbing temples. "Placing the Imperius Curse on a child."  
  
"He was trying to teach us about the Unforgivable Curses," Harry said dully in a half-hearted attempt to defend the teacher. He wasn't surprised to see the dubious look on the nurse's face.  
  
"Teaching?" Pomfrey responded. "That fool just wants to cause trouble," she said as she yanked the thermometer from Matt's mouth. After giving a satisfactory nod, the nurse placed the thermometer in a water bath and looked at Harry and Hermione with an impatient look in her eyes.  
  
"Now, I don't want you two troublemakers to interfere with his recuperation," Pomfrey said while pointing her thumb at the bed-ridden Ravenclaw. "I'll give you twenty minutes to talk with them, Mister MacDougal, before I throw them out. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Matt whispered politely. In his current state, he wasn't foolish enough to defy the stoic caretaker. Then, with a sympathetic nod, Madam Pomfrey turned away from her newest patient and shut the door.  
  
"Are you feeling any better?" Hermione asked, her eyes filled with concern.  
  
"I'm lookin' on the bright side," Matt croaked with a whisper of a smile. "By the time I'm released, it'll be the end of the days' classes." Even Hermione couldn't avoid laughing a bit at her friend's attitude.  
  
"Nice to see that spell didn't take your sense of humor," Harry said with a pleasant smile.  
  
"That remains to be seen, mate," Matt responded while blowing back his hair and settling into his hospital bed. "So, tell me more about this second Triwizard clue."  
  
"Now's hardly the time be thinking about that," Hermione said simply while she patted Matt's leg.  
  
"Oh, rubbish Hermione!" Matt said with a dissident shrug. "I'll be out of here before sunset. That'll give us more than enough time to figure it out if we work together on it."  
  
"As long as we don't invite Ron to distract us," Hermione added with a mischievous grin.  
  
"Precisely," Matt followed up.  
  
"Well," Harry started, "each of the competitors was given a golden egg after the first task. Bagman told us to discover the clue inside the egg by the twenty-fourth of February."  
  
"What was inside the egg?" Matt asked.  
  
"Nothing, the second I open the egg it makes a horrible yell."  
  
"The sound of a banshee wailing," Hermione elaborated.  
  
"A banshee?" Matt asked, his forehead slumping in concentration. "Maybe the yell of the creature itself is part of the clue."  
  
"So maybe the second task has something to do with banshees?" Harry asked aloud. Hermione shook her head.  
  
"I don't think so," the bushy-haired Gryffindor said. "I think the last thing the Triwizard audience would want to hear is a bunch of banshees screeching around the Hogwarts grounds. It just doesn't fit with the environment of the tournament."  
  
"Good point," Matt said as he nodded his head towards Hermione in appreciation. "So maybe the clue has to do with the noise itself."  
  
"Let's see," Hermione said as she wrenched one of her notebooks from her tightly packed knapsack. "What kind of situation would make a banshee wail?"  
  
"Quite a few, Hermione," Matt said frowning. "They wail when they're hunting, when they're hunted, and they use a high-pitched wail for their mating call. That part of it just seems too vague." While Matt and Hermione argued, a light bulb seemed to go off in Harry's head.  
  
"It wasn't a cry of success or danger!" Harry said while he quickly rose from his seat. "It was more of a desperate cry. Like a death throe."  
  
"Okay," Matt said as he rose a bit from his bed. "Now what would cause a banshee to make a noise like that?" It was Hermione's turn to have an epiphany.  
  
"Water!" she yelled triumphantly. "Most species of banshee are deathly afraid of water!"  
  
"So, if you try to immerse the egg in water and open it. . ." Matt thought aloud.  
  
"We may be able to understand it!" Hermione pronounced as she nearly jumped for joy. "Bloody brilliant!"  
  
"This may work," Harry said in a relieved manner.  
  
"There's only one way to find out for sure, Harry, and that's to test the theory itself." Matt said with a grin.  
  
"That will be simple," Hermione said as she crossed to the foot of the bed. "All Harry has to do is drop the egg into the Gryffindor baths once we get back to the common room!"  
  
"How about we just all pick a place where all of us can hear it?" Harry asked. Matt's hazel eyes nearly flickered with mischievous anticipation.  
  
"We could always use the Prefects' bathroom!" Matt chirped cheerfully. Hermione looked at her laid up friend as if he were nutters.  
  
"We're not allowed in there," Hermione whispered while Madam Pomfrey entered the room. "How do you expect for us to get in?"  
  
"Simple," Matt said with a roguish grin. "At ten o'clock, you two can take the invisibility cloak while I'll make one of my invisibility potions. Besides, I've always to check out what the Prefects' bathroom looks like!" By now, Madam Pomfrey was already shooing Harry out the door.  
  
"And why on earth are you so focused to see the Prefects bathroom?" Hermione asked while giving a suspicious glance at Matt's jovial behavior.  
  
"Because I never have, my dear Hermione," Matt answered while Madam Pomfrey nearly shoved Hermione out of the infirmary.  
  
A newborn unicorn looked into Macnair's emotionless eyes as he plodded his way through the Forbidden Forest. Macnair stooped down to pet the brave, little creature, caressing its newly grown horns and running a coursed hand through the unicorn's brilliant white mane.  
  
"You must have received that mane from your mother," Macnair said as the unicorn neighed in appreciation of Macnair's nurturing. Macnair remembered the days when he was a student at Hogwarts and would occasionally sneak out to view the exquisite wonders of this magical glen. It was a time when the dewy patina of innocence seemed to cover him like a second skin, just as it was doing for this newborn creature. It was a time before he discovered his true place in the world.  
  
"You're just a fragile soul," Macnair told the unicorn as he gazed into the eyes of the innocent creature. "A soul who does not know of the agony of pain and the glory of death. You can be shifted into something so superior that your mother and father would not have dreamed it possible." Macnair's right hand slid down the rest of the mane and made a firm grasp around the back of the steed's neck. "Unfortunately for you, my lord has no time to dwell with creatures such as you who have fallen off the evolutionary ladder," the man said coldly as his left hand coiled itself around the front of the unicorn's neck. The infant unicorn was not even remotely aware of the danger as Macnair slowly tightened his grip, the unicorn's profound emerald-green eyes gazing into Macnair's emotionless face.  
  
"Allow me to escort you into your eventual place in life," Macnair said grimly as he began to squeeze the very life from the magical creature. Then, with a simple, violent motion, he yanked his hands in opposite directions and cracked the unicorn's neck. The creature could not even make a plea for help as it made its slow lifeless plummet to the soft forest floor, small trickles of blood escaping from its mouth.  
  
Macnair rose to his feet and casually wiped the unicorn's blood onto his pants as he continued to traverse the mysterious forest. Not a single denizen of the forest made the slightest effort to spur the titanic man's attention as he continued his trek. Within minutes, the executioner was able to make out the hut that was owned by the school's grounds keeper. His master's informant had told him that he would find the passage thirty paces northwest of the hut, and he was not about to make a mistake. After arriving at the projected spot, Macnair pulled out his wand, a twelve-inch oak wand that had the stain of blood all over it. Whether it was his own blood or the blood of one of his many unfortunate victims during the war fifteen years ago was a secret that was only known by him.  
  
"Open before mine eyes," Macnair pronounced as he pointed his wand at the supposed entrance to the secret passage. Within seconds, a six-by-six foot layer of wood and dirt began to lift itself up with impressive speed, revealing a dirt tunnel that looked as if it had not been used for years. Mold spores seemed to fester on the walls of the passage and the smell of death seemed to hang over it like a shroud. Macnair had no qualms for getting dirty, however, it was a small price to pay to help accomplish his master's grand vision. Once the passage was open completely, Macnair made a short leap into the passageway and provided a light with his wand and shut the door behind him. His blood seemed to boil in anticipation as Macnair made his way closer and closer towards the potions dungeon where he would inhabit himself until his time to strike came.  
  
He would be hunting something much more satisfying than a unicorn soon enough.  
  
Harry and Hermione were deathly silent as they made their way to the Prefects bathroom underneath Harry's invisibility cloak. Indeed, with Hermione making sure that the enlarged cloak fit over the both of them while Harry held on to the heavy golden egg and the Marauder's Map, they were probably taking enough risks already. Harry was quite thankful that Ron decided to stay behind on this venture, it would be nearly impossible for the three of them to make their way to the Prefects' bathroom without being noticed.  
  
"Just be sure to tell me all about it once you get back," Ron said as he opened the door leading out of the Gryffindor common room allowing his two friends to leave without suspicion.  
  
The two Gryffindors arrived at the door leading to the Prefects bathroom several minutes after ten while they waited for Matt. After five minutes of waiting in silence, Hermione impatiently poked her head out of the protection of the cloak.  
  
"Where on earth could he be?" Hermione hissed in frustration.  
  
"So there you are!"  
  
Hermione nearly jumped out of the cloak in shock as Matt began to materialize in front of her, his hazel eyes looking extremely agitated. "I've been waiting on you guys for twenty minutes."  
  
"Could you at least warn someone before you do that?" Hermione clucked in disapproval.  
  
"I'm not the one whose head just popped out of nowhere!" Matt nearly shouted.  
  
"Can we just get inside the bathroom now?" Harry asked impatiently while still covered in the invisibility cloak. Matt turned to the statue of Boris the Bewildered, the guardian of the Prefects bathing quarters, and leaned in close to it.  
  
"Pine fresh," Matt whispered and the statue quickly slid aside. The three students quickly hustled inside, with Matt bolting the door behind him.  
  
"Do I even want to know how you just happened to know the password to this room?" Hermione asked dully as she cast a Reducio charm on the cloak and began to fold it. Matt sighed in frustration.  
  
"If you must know, I heard Roger Davies say it before you guys got here," Matt said as he pulled a second invisibility potion from out of his cloak.  
  
Harry, meanwhile, was too busy staring at the amazingly lavish features of the bathroom to respond to his friends' bickering. The gentle lights from the chandelier at the top of the room seemed to bounce off the white marble floor, creating an intensely relaxing atmosphere. A generous pile of fluffy white towels sat in one corner while a painting of a fair- haired mermaid was framed above them. However, the most impressive aspect of the Prefects bathroom was the tub itself. The washbasin was so large that it dominated the center of the room. It looked to be as much as six feet deep and a diving board was placed on one end of the tub. The edge of the tub was clustered with golden taps, each with a differently colored jewel set into its handle.  
  
"I wonder if it's possible to just live here," Harry said.  
  
"We're not here to goof off," Hermione said steadily. "We're here to figure out that clue."  
  
"I don't know, Hermione," Matt said as he took off his robe hastily, revealing a pair of solid blue swim trunks. "I always view goofing off as a very important secondary objective," he said to her with a wink and an impish smile as he dashed for the diving board. With an excited whoop, Matt ran off the board and dived into the tub with a very impressive forward-flip dive.  
  
"How's the water?" Harry asked him as soon as Matt resurfaced.  
  
"Warmer than you'd expect," Matt said as he began a steady backstroke to the other end of the bath. "Get your arse in here, Potter! You too, Granger!"  
  
Needing no further prompting, Harry took off his pajamas, slippers, and dressing gown, leaving nothing more on than a pair of solid green trunks. After placing the discarded clothes in a somewhat organized pile, Harry clambered up to the diving board and cannon balled into the tub. As soon as Harry settled himself, Matt turned back to Hermione with an impatient look in his eyes.  
  
"Are you getting in here or what?" he asked dully. Hermione was trying to stifle a bit of a blush at Harry's current state of lack of dress.  
  
"Give me a minute!" Hermione stammered. Harry stopped fiddling with the bubbles that were emerging from the various golden taps and cocked his head to one side in notice of Hermione's hesitation.  
  
"You're not naked under there, are you?" the black-haired boy asked innocently.  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Then get in here," Matt said gleefully as he made his way back to the middle of the pool. "It's not like we're going to be staring at you or anything. You're not that attractive."  
  
Hermione, who was not about to ignore a comment like that, turned red in anger as she quickly removed her robe and pajamas, revealing a highly conservative white bathing suit that reminded Matt of Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby.  
  
"Nice swimsuit, Hermione," Matt said saucily as the bushy-haired Gryffindor stomped her way to the shallow end of the tub. "It makes me want to do The Charleston."  
  
"Another word from you and I'll use my wand to turn you into a porcupine," Hermione growled as she gradually waded into the tub. While Harry and Hermione swam to the middle of the tub, which was only about four feet deep, Matt dogpaddled over to the edge of the tub where Harry had placed the golden egg and retrieved it.  
  
"Your egg, sir," Matt said with a smirk as he presented it to his friend, who took it and began to undo the latches. As soon as Harry opened the egg, the wailing howl of the banshee flooded the room, making Matt yelp and clap his hands over his ears. "Shut it up!" Matt screamed, "Shut that goddamned thing up!"  
  
Harry snapped the egg shut again while Hermione fretted about whether Filch had heard the noise.  
  
"The odds of that are pretty high," Matt said calmly as he rubbed his forehead with one hand and played with a large pink bubble with the other. "Let's just worry about figuring that egg out right now."  
  
"I'd try putting it in the water, if I were you."  
  
All three of the students jumped at the sound of the voice, which caused the speaker to chuckle quite a bit. She was a glum-looking ghost who was casually sitting on one of the taps. Harry and Hermione recognized the apparition as Moaning Myrtle, a ghost of a former student at Hogwarts whom they had met in their second year.  
  
"Who in the bloody hell are you?" Matt hollered as he tried to hide himself from the snooping specter.  
  
"Who am I? Who are you?" Moaning Myrtle asked back indignantly. "You're awfully rude. I would have already called Filch on you if you weren't with Harry." Matt turned sharply to Harry.  
  
"Do you know this weirdo?"  
  
"Here name is Myrtle," Hermione said while trying to hush her friend. "We'll explain later."  
  
"And what are you doing here?" Myrtle asked Hermione with a suspicious look upon her otherwise morose features. "This is a boy's bathroom, you know. You shouldn't be in here!"  
  
"What about you?" Harry said crossly. "Have you been watching Diggory and the other prefects take their showers?"  
  
"Every now and then," Myrtle answered reticently as her cheeks tinged scarlet.  
  
"There goes my desire to be a prefect," Matt murmured as he began to slip under the water. "Being spied upon by a miserable pimply ghost is hardly my idea of a relaxing atmosphere." Harry was thankful that Myrtle didn't seem to catch Matt's last comment.  
  
"Why don't you come to see me anymore?" Myrtle asked, her transparent eyes blinking behind her dense glasses. Harry hastily turned to Hermione to help him with Myrtle's piteous inquiry, but his friend had already dipped her head under the water as well.  
  
'Thanks for the help, guys.' Harry thought with a wry grin.  
  
"Well," Harry began, "I'm really not supposed to go in there. It is a girls' bathroom, after all, right?"  
  
"You didn't used to care about that," Myrtle said miserably while blinking back tears. "You used to be in there all the time!" Of course, the real reason they were in Myrtle's bathroom was because they could brew an illegal potion there without anybody noticing it. However, Harry was too considerate to just admit that to her.  
  
"I apologize," Harry said softly, not really knowing for certain how serious his apology was. "I promise to visit you every now and then from now on. We can be friends, how does that sound?" Moaning Myrtle perked up quite a bit at that proposal.  
  
"Do you mean it?" Myrtle asked floating up a bit into the air with excitement. Matt and Hermione had both resurfaced by this time and were both looking at him with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Um, sure," Harry said cautiously, slowly realizing just what he had gotten himself into.  
  
"That's wonderful!" Myrtle gushed as she searched frantically for a handkerchief to dry her jubilant eyes. After several loud snorts into it, she gave a bit of a smile as she began to float towards the exit of the bathroom. "I'll be waiting for you, Harry," Myrtle said in a tone that Harry thought to believe was supposed to be tempting. "Remember to open that egg underwater, it's what Cedric did, after all." And, with that last revelation, Myrtle disappeared from the room, leaving the three shocked students to themselves.  
  
"You meet the most interesting people, Harry," Matt said sarcastically.  
  
"Like I said, Matt," Hermione said while she gently tugged the egg away from Harry, "we'll explain later. Now, let's get to work on this egg."  
  
"We may as well try to open it underwater," Harry said while Hermione undid the latches under the hot and foaming water. Once the lid was removed, a strange song seemed to resonate from it, hardly the horrific screeching that had emerged moments ago. Matt, Harry, and Hermione looked at each other with bewildered expressions on their face while the egg continued its incomprehensible song.  
  
"Perhaps you could hear it underwater?" Hermione said as she held the egg in her hands carefully.  
  
"I'll check it out," Matt said as he took a deep breath and dove underwater. The young Ravenclaw was greeted with a chorus of peculiar voices singing with no set rhythm. After twenty seconds, Matt surfaced.  
  
"What did you hear?" Hermione asked as Matt shook his head to avoid getting water in his eyes.  
  
"It's a song, alright," Matt said, still a little out-of-breath, but I didn't catch the beginning of it. "It said, 'And while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took."  
  
"What I'll sorely miss?" Harry pondered aloud. "What does that mean?"  
  
"We need to hear the entire song," Hermione said as she handed the egg back to Harry before she took a deep breath and dipped underwater. After another twenty-seconds, she resurfaced gasping for air. Both Matt and Harry were looking at her expectantly.  
  
"I heard some of the same lines!" Hermione said breathlessly. "It said, 'Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground.' Those must have been the first lines of the song!"  
  
"Then let's figure out the rest of it!" Harry ordered while he handed Matt the egg and took his trip underwater. It had taken another trip by each of them to memorize the entire song.  
  
"Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. And while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss. An hour long you'll have to look , and to recover what we took. But past and hour the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back." Hermione recited.  
  
"All right then," Matt said while he sat down near the shallow edge of the pool. "So the question is, who cannot speak above the ground."  
  
"Well," Harry said while he placed the egg back on the edge of the bath, "it must have something to do with underwater creatures. After all, this entire clue has been based around it so far."  
  
"The task will probably take place at the lake of the giant squid," Hermione said with her arms folded in concentration. "It's the largest body of water within fifty miles of here? The question is, what kind of creatures reside in that lake?"  
  
"Maybe it's the giant squid?" Matt said with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
"I don't think that squid can talk underwater or out of it," Harry said flatly. "It must be something else!" Hermione's eyes chocolate-brown eyes lit up in understanding.  
  
"Merpeople!" she yelped. "There's a small colony of merpeople living at the bottom of the lake! They speak a language that cannot be understood by most humans on land but could be understood under the water! I can't believe I didn't think of it before!"  
  
"Leave it to Hermione Holmes to solve the mystery," Matt said as he and Harry gave their friend a round of golf claps. Hermione, not giving an inch, placed her feet on the bottom of the pool and gave them a curtsy that nearly sent her head into the water.  
  
"You're too kind, my friends," Hermione said with a charming smile.  
  
"So the second task is going to take place in the lake and it involves merpeople," Harry said while he leaned back against one of the edges of the tub.  
  
"You got it, Harry." Matt said as he slapped Harry on the back. "Hope you got your swimming skills up to par!" Harry gave his friend a miserable look.  
  
"That's the thing," Harry said nervously. "I don't know how to swim!"  
  
"What do you mean?" Matt asked. "You were swimming just fine a minute ago."  
  
"A couple laps around here is fine but I've never dived before!"  
  
"Don't worry about that!" Hermione said as she glided over to Matt and Harry. "It's a month until the task actually begins. We can teach you how to swim." A little hope came into Harry's eyes at Hermione's enthusiasm.  
  
"Could you?" Harry asked.  
  
"Of course!" Matt said with a big grin. "We'll have you swimmin' like a guppy before you know it." Looking at Matt and Hermione's exuberant eyes, Harry felt like he wanted to cry.  
  
"Of course, the real problem is figuring out to breathe underwater," Matt said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Perhaps I can use transfiguration to turn me into something that can breathe underwater. Like a shark, maybe," Harry said.  
  
"Yeah, and you can bite a big chunk out of Cedric's ass at the same time!" Matt said as he and Harry laughed.  
  
"Leave it to the two of you to come up with the most ridiculous ideas," Hermione said flatly as she gave her friends a friendly splash of water.  
  
"And what do you think is a good idea, Hermione?" Harry asked while returning Hermione's attack with one of his own.  
  
"Well, you could always use a Bubblehead charm. It gives the caster an oxygen-rich shield that allows you to breath underwater so long as you maintain the spell itself."  
  
"That could be tricky," Harry said as he placed his chin on the top of his left fist.  
  
"Yeah, if Harry breaks concentration for just one second it could be the end for him. He doesn't know what's down there either." Matt said finishing up Harry's thought. "Still, it's far better than Harry's idea."  
  
"Hey!" Harry said sharply as Hermione shook her head with a smile.  
  
"I don't suppose we could just a buy an Aqua-Lung, could we?" Matt asked.  
  
"That would probably be against the rules," Harry said, his frustration and nervousness beginning to resurface. "Besides, the nearest Muggle village is 75 miles southeast of here. I doubt even a summoning charm could bring something like that here."  
  
"There must be something!" Hermione shouted as the three young magicians searched their minds for any possible answer. After a minute of silence, Matt stood up in the bathtub like a cruise missile, startling the two Gryffindors.  
  
"Gillyweed!" Matt bellowed triumphantly. As proud as Matt was about it however, Harry and Hermione still looked at him with severe confusion.  
  
"It's a plant that's found in some of the shallows of the Mediterranean River," Matt continued as he walked back to the shallow end of the bath. "Eating it brings about a transfiguration effect that allows a human to grow gills, thus allowing them to breathe underwater for as long as one hour!"  
  
"That's brilliant, Matt!" Hermione shouted.  
  
"But, if it's in the Mediterranean, how are we supposed to get some?" Harry asked looking from Matt to Hermione. Matt and Hermione looked each other right in the eyes and thought the same thing.  
  
"Snape," Matt and Hermione said simultaneously. Harry nearly choked on some of the settling bubbles in the bath.  
  
"First of all, how do you know Snape has some gillyweed?" Harry said with bewilderment as Matt climbed out of the bath and started to dry himself off.  
  
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said simply. "Snape is a potions master. He has at least some of every plant under the sun. He must have it!"  
  
"Are you two actually saying that we should ask Professor Snape if we can borrow some gillyweed?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not at all, Harry," Matt said as he emerged behind a curtain wearing his wizard's robes. He handed Hermione his invisibility potion while he cast an Engorgio charm on the Invisibility cloak. With a flick of her wand, Hermione dried herself off and placed her pajamas back on. With that task done, she tossed a fluffy, white towel straight into Harry's hands "He'd never go for that!"  
  
"Then what?" Harry asked as he proceeded to dry himself off.  
  
"We're going to steal it," Hermione said flatly.  
  
It took quite a bit of cajoling from his colleagues to convince Harry to enter Snape's dungeon in the dead of night. In fact, Harry was still secretly wondering if his friends had lost their minds. Harry wasn't loathe to break the rules once in a while, but getting caught by Snape while trying to steal some of his potions ingredients would be tantamount to a death sentence.  
  
Of course, Severus Snape didn't despise Matt or Hermione either. That privilege had fallen to him.  
  
So, Hermione had taken Matt's invisibility potion and the Marauder's Map and rushed back to the Gryffindor common room while Matt and Harry took the invisibility cloak with them to Snape's usual stomping grounds. Although Harry was relieved to see that there were no signs of Snape in the dungeon, it still wasn't enough to remove the pit in his stomach as they snuck by Filch and softly pried the door to the potions' dungeon open.  
  
"Snape will skin us if he finds us down here," Harry said simply.  
  
"He's not that bad," Matt said as he and Harry walked step-by-step downward. "You just get on his bad side easy."  
  
"Snape doesn't have a good side!" Harry whispered angrily. "He's a miserable, slimy git that goes out of his way to make my life miserable." Matt stopped walking for a bit and, despite their invisibility, looked directly into Harry's eyes. Like he wouldn't allow anyone to insult Harry, Matt wasn't about to allow Harry to insult his favorite teacher.  
  
"Look, you're my friend and I'll respect your opinion about Professor Snape, but he's taught me more about magic at this school than all my other teachers combined. If you can't appreciate him for what he does, then maybe it's you who has the problem."  
  
"I'm not the one with the problem, it's you who has the blinders over his eyes," Harry said firmly.  
  
"You know, maybe Snape was right about you. Maybe you are just a spoiled brat who thinks he's too big for the rest of us!" Harry, whose head now shot out from the invisibility cloak, looked at the Ravenclaw with a fire in his emerald eyes.  
  
"Well, at least I'm not the one traipsing around at all hours of the night making an arse out of myself!" Matt shrunk quite a bit as Harry's comment hit home, causing Harry's eyes to soften a bit. For a few long seconds, the two young men were sitting down on one of the stone steps just trying not to make any noise.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "You didn't deserve that."  
  
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," Matt said with his head downcast, causing the tip of his brown hair to slip out of the cloak. "I shouldn't have gotten mad, especially not at a time like this." There was another long silence that permeated the air of the dungeons. After a bit, Harry yanked the invisibility cloak off the both of them and extended his hand.  
  
"Let's just agree that we're sorry and agree to disagree. What do you say?"  
  
Matt's face seemed to flicker a bit of a smile at the honest request and moved to shake Harry's hand. And, without another word, the two troublemakers lifted the invisibility cloak over themselves and slowly made their way down to Snape's laboratory.  
  
'It looks a little weird without any students in it,' Harry mused as Matt abandoned the protection of the cloak to light one of the torches in the room. It was true, Harry had never been inside Snape's classroom except for Potions classes. Harry never viewed it as a cheery place but now it just seemed downright miserable. With Matt leading the way, the two finally made their way into Snape's storeroom.  
  
The sheer size of Snape's storeroom was impressive enough. It was dominated with tall, black oak cabinets, each of which was filled to the brim with ingredients for potions. The back end of the room was filled with humble bookshelves, each of which was clustered with complex potions books, dark incantations, and history books. Harry was sorely tempted to see if he could find one of Snape's diaries or journals until the sound of Matt's rifling through the various drawers interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"This is hopeless," Matt said as he slammed one of the drawers with a satisfying bang!. "It could take weeks to find what we're looking for!" Harry begrudgingly agreed with Matt's pessimism, although he wasn't about to admit it. He hadn't come this far only to be stopped now. Finally, with a sparkle of an idea, Harry pulled his wand from under his robes.  
  
"Accio gillyweed!" he cried as the tip of his wand glowed white. Matt turned to Harry in confusion only to be smacked in the back of his head by a speeding ball of slimy gray-green weeds, which Harry collected neatly with his left hand. Harry couldn't help but grin while Matt dragged himself up.  
  
"Nice trick with the summoning charm," Matt said as he gingerly rubbed the back of his hand. "You could warn me next time though, couldn't you?"  
  
"Didn't you say that this search would take forever?" Harry said with a sardonic grin. "I just decided to speed it up a bit." At that revelation, Matt got back to his feet and gave his friend a smirk.  
  
"I'll give you that one," Matt said as he passed by Harry and began to make his way out of the storeroom. "Now, let's don that cloak of yours and get our butts out of here!"  
  
"I have a better idea," a rasping voice said before Matt was hit with a meat bone-sized fist that caused the young man to fly twenty feet before crashing into one of Snape's bookshelves. Harry shakily pointed his wand at the massive figure. The man disregarded the potential threat and gave the young Gryffindor a dreadful look that caused Harry's blood to curdle.  
  
"It would be wise for you to stay out of this matter, Potter," Macnair said with a bloodthirsty grin. "I am here to kill your friends. You are to remain unharmed so that you may perform your final service for my master. Do not test my patience." Harry still pointed his wand at the executioner, this time with a more determined look on his face.  
  
"I remember you," Harry said in defiance. "You're Macnair! The Ministry's executioner! You use to be one of Voldermort's Death Eaters!"  
  
"I'm honored you still remember me," Macnair said as he stroked his straw-blond hair back casually, his muscular body a frightening sight to behold. "Allow me to correct you, however, I am still a Death Eater, one of the few and proud. I wanted to take care of your godfather on my last visit here, but you denied me that right." Harry's eyes flashed as the revelation kicked in.  
  
"So you were sent to kill Sirius!"  
  
"Indeed I was," Macnair replied as he moved closer to the young Gryffindor. "My master was quite upset when he learned that Black had escaped his kennel in Azkaban. It presented unfortunate complications."  
  
"Get away from him, Harry!" Matt screamed. "He's a killer!" Macnair chuckled quite a bit as he turned his attention back to Matt, who was slowly rising back to his feet.  
  
"You were always a tough little bastard," Macnair said as he pulled his wand out from one of the crooks of his belt. "Perhaps I should pay Minerva a visit while I'm here. It would be nice to get together with another old acquaintance."  
  
"You leave her alone, you son of a bitch!" Matt screamed as he yanked his wand out from under his robes. "I'll kill you before you can even lay a finger on her!"  
  
"You think you can possibly beat me, boy?" Macnair said his wand zeroing in on Matt's temples as it flared bright green. "I was sent to kill your little mudblood of a friend, but my master also allowed me to take care of you as well."  
  
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry shouted, causing Macnair's wand to force itself from its owner and fly towards Harry. Macnair held his large, outstretched arm out a while longer and before twisting his head to glare back at his attacker. He then began a slow march towards the black-haired boy.  
  
"An interesting tactic," Macnair said simply, advancing ever so slowly, "but I hardly need a wand to take care of powerless children like yourselves. Perhaps you can stop me before I get to you."  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted, causing a white wire of energy to shoot from Harry's wand, encasing Macnair with pure energy. However, with a simple motion of his considerably muscular arms, Macnair broke the spell and continued moving towards Harry.  
  
"Incendio!" A red ball of energy shot from Harry's wand and collided with Macnair's barrel-like chest. It only seemed to irritate the gargantuan wizard further.  
  
"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" Two more bolts of energy emerged from Harry's wand and hit Macnair right between the eyes. But, like the monster in so many low-grade horror movies, Macnair just kept moving forward. Before Harry could think of another spell, Macnair had grabbed the scruff of Harry's robes with one of his hands and flung him out of the storeroom with a flick of his wrist. Harry's right knee crashed forcefully into one of the student tables.  
  
"Of course, I highly doubt that my master would object to causing a bit of harm to you," Macnair said as he casually walked out of the storeroom while Harry did all he could to avoid screaming in pain from several broken bones. The evil man was met at the entrance by a side savate kick that would have broken the neck of most men. Macnair, however, simply shrugged off the blow and gave Matt a vicious backhand that missed him by inches.  
  
What was to follow was a display a fighting prowess that most human beings could not even hope to witness in their lifetime. Matt's incredible agility and magical prowess coupled with Macnair's brute power produced a brawl that quickly reduced much of the classroom to splinters. Even Harry did everything he could, fighting back the awful pain as he cast every spell he could think of at Macnair. Despite all their efforts, however, Macnair would not be stopped by them this night. After five minutes of flirting with danger, Matt was hit hard by Macnair's left hook, causing the young man's jaw to break as he twirled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Matt was still spitting up blood as Macnair's titanic battle-axe materialized before his eyes. With a heavy grunt, Macnair hefted the malicious weapon over his head and prepared to strike.  
  
"Time for you to die, boy!" Macnair spat as he furiously swung the blade towards Matt's neck.  
  
Whoo! Quite a chapter, don't you think? I'm quite proud of the efforts myself. Anyway, I would like to thank everybody who has read up to this point, particularly Kelli (a.k.a. Kravenclaw) who has really cheered me up with her reviews (and is probably going to be pretty mad about two straight chapters with cliffhangers). Don't worry, this will be the last cliffhanger for a while yet! Speaking of, how about a preview for the next chapter!  
  
Yup, it certainly seems that our young heroes are up a creek without a paddle, as the old saying goes. Is there anyway for them to escape the grasp of the murderous Macnair? (Of course there is, it would be kind of silly to have two of the three main characters die in the middle of the novel. . . or would it?) Find out in the next installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery: Hermione the Heroine! Gee, the title sort of gives it away, don't you think? 


	7. Hermione the Heroine

Once again, I'd like to welcome you to the latest installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery! I hope all my readers have had as much fun reading this so far as I have writing it. I view it as a labor of love. Once again, I will be thankful for any reviews, comments, and criticisms that I am given and I will respond to them in kind. Well, enough with my boring dribble of an introduction, let's get to the equally dull disclaimer! Woohoo!  
  
Disclaimer- As I've said the last half-dozen times, I still don't own Harry Potter, no matter how much I tick off Mrs. Rowling. If anybody out there knows how to get around a restraining order given by a very famous writer, then I would be pleased to know about it.  
  
Chapter 7- Hermione the Heroine  
  
The clock had just struck eleven in the Gryffindor common room and only five students were out of their beds. Fred and George Weasley, who, for one night at least, were trying to stay out of trouble while working on their order forms for their prank shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They intermixed their periods of labor with the occasional game of Exploding Snap. Another pair of Gryffindor night owls, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were not awake by choice. It had been well over a half an hour since Hermione had taken Matt's invisibility potion and returned to the common room and she still hadn't heard of Harry. And, as was often the case when she was not by Harry's side, she was quite worried about him and she wasn't about to carry the burden of tension alone, hence Ron being with her.  
  
"They've probably gone to just pull a midnight prank," Ron complained as he stifled another loud yawn. "Can't I just go to bed?"  
  
"This is serious, Ron!" Hermione hissed as she continued her severe pacing back and forth from the mantle of the roaring fireplace. "They went down to Snape's dungeon to steal something! They could have been caught by anyone! Filch, McGonagall, Snape, any number of people! How can you be so calm about this?" Ron rolled his eyes at the worrisome young woman before replying.  
  
"Because you do this every time Harry goes off to do something that's the slightest bit dangerous. It could be a Quidditch match, it could be a Triwizard event, it could be fighting You-Know-Who himself. No matter how small or how large it is you just fret about like a mother hen. Come on, you know better than anyone that Harry and Matt can take care of themselves."  
  
"Am I the only one that's noticed that somebody is after Harry!" Hermione nearly screamed. "Honestly, I didn't think he would do something this dangerous."  
  
"I thought you were the one who convinced him to do it!" Ron pointed out as he leaned forward from his comfy recliner.  
  
"That doesn't mean he should take so much bloody time to do it!"  
  
By now, Ron was well aware that logic was not going to get him anywhere with his raving friend. Instead, as he often did when put in situations like these, he opted for mockery and insult over debate.  
  
"You really should stop worrying so much," Ron said as he leaned back with a sneaky smirk. "I'm sure that your boyfriend will come back just fine."  
  
"I DO NOT LIKE HARRY POTTER!" Hermione screamed so loudly that Ron thought that the entire dormitory was now awake. Whatever the case, the redheaded Gryffindor knew he hit the necessary nerve to calm her down, allowing Ron to speak calmly.  
  
"If you're so worried about Harry, then why not use the Marauder's Map and find out where he is?" Ron pointed out austerely. "You have it, don't you?" A wave of realization finally seemed to hit Hermione, much to the relief of her beleaguered conversation partner. Without another word, Hermione pulled a shabby parchment out from her robes. The Marauder's Map was a "gift" given to Harry by Fred and George last year. Harry soon learned later that his own father had a hand in constructing the wondrous device, which provided a map of Hogwarts that was written to the finest of details, displaying hidden passages and fake walls that most professors did not even know about. However, the most important aspect of the map was that it was able to identify the locations of various people roaming the halls, an aspect that Hermione planned to take full advantage of now.  
  
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she said resolutely and the rolled-up paper began to magically unfurl itself. Within moments, the magical parchment was levitating in the air like a calm brown owl. Some writing provided by an invisible hand appeared on it, a rather sloppy scrawling that seemed horribly rushed and overly exuberant.  
  
"You are up to no good, Corporal Bushy Hair?" it read, causing Hermione to frown in disapproval. "I'd sooner believe that Snape got all the slime out of his hair!" Another bit of handwriting appeared below that, a smaller, much more subtle handwriting. It almost seemed to be gentle in Hermione's eyes.  
  
"Don't be so hard on her, Padfoot," it said. "Not everyone is satisfied with raising havoc at every hour of the night. Most people have better things to do."  
  
"Cut me some slack, Wormtail!" the messy handwriting continued. "I'm not sure we should trust this one. Knowing her, she'll probably tell old lady McGonagall on us and we'll get folded back up in Filch's file drawer again."  
  
"She's Harry's friend, Padfoot. If Harry trusts her, then I do too."  
  
"You're no fun, Wormtail!"  
  
"Please ignore him, um, Hermione, is it? How can I help you?" the writing of Wormtail asked.  
  
"I'd like to see where Harry and Matt MacDougal are located."  
  
"MacDougal?" Padfoot's handwriting had returned. "What a dopey name to be using. Then again, I don't blame him considering his current sitch."  
  
"Quiet, Padfoot! We'll be happy to help, Miss Granger." Without another word, the writing of the two squabbling friends had vanished from the parchment and was replaced with a map of Hogwarts. Filch and Mrs. Norris were searching for Peeves in one of the armor rooms. Severus Snape appeared to be asleep in his quarters. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was burning the midnight oil in her office, no doubt working on the next written exam in her Transfiguration class. Finally, she turned her attention to the two dots marked Harry Potter and Matt McGonagall.  
  
'McGonagall?' she thought with an alarmed look. 'What on earth is that all about.' However, it was the other two dots in the potions dungeon that truly frightened her. One of them glowed dully, almost seeming as if it wanted to keep itself hidden while the other seemed to glow menacingly.  
  
The dots were marked Macnair and Peter Pettigrew.  
  
Without another word, Hermione folded the Marauder's Map and dashed out of the Gryffindor common room, leaving a very confused Ron attempting to figure out just what the hell was going on.  
  
"Die!" Macnair screamed as his double-bladed axe swung in hopes of claiming Matt's head. However, with a speed born of sheer desperation rather than battle instinct, Matt put his back to the floor and performed a sideways roll that caused the executioner's merciless strike to miss him by a hair. Biting back a growl of anger, Macnair simply continued to stalk the young Ravenclaw as he stood up quickly and tried to put distance between them.  
  
"You can't run away forever," Macnair said mockingly. Matt growled and pointed his wand to the dungeon floor.  
  
"I don't plan on running just yet! Tremoris!" Matt's wand glowed a bright orange as the nearby granite floor began to shake violently, the epicenter of the miniature quake right under where Macnair was standing. The executioner was caught unawares by the sudden maneuver and was forced to maintain his footing while Matt dashed to the side of the room where Harry was lying. The black-haired young man had somehow managed to get to his feet despite a severely wounded right leg and was hobbling while pointing his wand at his massive attacker.  
  
"Can you walk?" Matt said as the violent tremors began to lessen and quickly fade away. Matt's shattered jaw made his voice sound muffled.  
  
"Not really," Harry replied as he tried to cast a healing charm on his own broken bones. "It looks like we may have to fight until help arrives."  
  
'If it arrives,' they both thought grimly.  
  
"Your little tricks won't stop me!" Macnair grunted as he charged headfirst like an enraged rhino at the boys, his battle-axe held tightly in his hands.  
  
"Stupefy!" Matt and Harry both cried as twin bolts erupted from their wands. The titanic beast of a man didn't even bother to dodge the attack, but met it head on. The sheer force of the dual hexes staggered him for the slightest moment, but Macnair just continued his charge within moments. Matt had only the slightest amount of time to push Harry aside from the rampaging man, but he couldn't get out of the way of Macnair's wild side- swipe, which managed to graze Matt's left shoulder as he tried to jump aside. He yelped like a wounded deer as blood began to spill from the two- inch deep gash. Despite his pain, Matt was still far better off than Harry, who seemed to have passed out from the pain of his badly broken leg. The fight was now a one-on-one.  
  
"Impedimenta!" Matt bellowed as he grit his teeth in an effort to shut out the pain. The advanced hex seemed to slow down Macnair for the slightest bit, which gave Matt enough time to dodge Macnair's downward slash and use a trip kick to send the muscle bound Death Eater to the ground. With impressive speed, Matt scrambled back to his feet and prepared to cast another spell. Before he was able, however, Macnair threw his axe at the boy. Matt dove aside to dodge the throw, causing the double- bladed monstrosity to plant itself deeply into one of the dungeon's walls. However, Macnair used the distraction to leap to his feet and grab the young Ravenclaw by the neck.  
  
Matt's vision was a hazy sea of red as Macnair hefted him several feet in the air. He tried to think of a spell to cast but a firm grasp of Matt's left wrist with Macnair's spare sent his wand clattering to the hard stone floor.  
  
"An excellent hunt," Macnair whispered menacingly, the muscles in his neck flexing and expanding outward nearly to the size of elevator cords. "I have been waiting a long time to feel your blood on my hands." Matt tried to spit in Macnair's cold, black eyes in a final act of defiance but found that his throat was dry. Macnair noticed the gesture and gave another cold laugh. "Do you have any last words?"  
  
"LEAVE MY FRIEND ALONE!!"  
  
As Macnair turned his head to find the source of the enraged voice, he was greeted by an enormous ball of fire that looked to be about four feet long and two feet wide. Matt broke himself from Macnair's distracted grip as the spell hit the executioner full in the chest, causing him to flip backwards from the sheer force of the spell. The smell of cooked skin began to permeate the room even before Macnair's body began to hit the ground. Matt stared in disbelief as he rolled backwards to retrieve his wand and look at his savior.  
  
And there, standing at the dungeons' entrance, was a stunned Hermione Granger, who held out her wand in her pale hands. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she looked around the room to see Harry's fallen body, Macnair's twitching arms, and Matt's wide-eyed expression.  
  
"How in the hell did you do that!" Matt hollered. In response, Hermione quickly looked to her wand, then to Macnair's smoking body, to Harry's unconscious form, and then back to her wand again.  
  
"I. . ." she stammered, "I don't have the faintest idea."  
  
"So the mudblood comes to me," Macnair said as he rose up to a sitting position as if he was just waking up from a brief nap. His charred and bubbling flesh was beginning to mend and heal before Matt and Hermione's horrified eyes. "Allow me to thank you for saving me the trouble of looking for you, Miss Granger." As Macnair rose to his feet, Matt turned to Hermione.  
  
"Get out of here, Hermione!" Matt screamed as he pointed his wand at her for emphasis. "He's here to get you!"  
  
Under most circumstances, Hermione would have been more than happy to rush back to her room as quickly as she could and pretend that this wasn't happening. If the problem was hers and hers alone, she would have probably sat by the fire and read a book to calm herself down and try to not concern anybody else. However, it was her friends that were hurt and writhing on the floor, her friends who were fighting for their lives against this monstrosity. Two of the people that she cared for the most in all the world. Every fiber of her mighty brain may have been screaming at her to run, but her heart knew where her true place was. Running was the last option in her mind.  
  
"Leave this school immediately," Hermione said without a hint of fear, her wand pointed menacingly at Macnair. "I won't allow you to hurt anyone else!" Macnair just leered at the brave young woman.  
  
"Spare me your delusions, mudblood," Macnair said as he rubbed a spot in his chest that was scarring from Hermione's attack. "I'll commend you for your lucky shot, but that's all you're going to get." Macnair turned his head away from the girl momentarily and scowled while he watched Matt banishing the gigantic battle-axe out back into the storeroom, far away from Macnair's reach. "No matter, I'll be more than happy to sever your spinal cord with my own two hands," he said, holding up his hands, which were stained with the blood of Matt and the baby unicorn. With the speed of a wildcat, Macnair charged at Hermione.  
  
"Stupefy!" She shrilled; a large ball of red light emerged from her wand and shot out at her foe. However, a simple swipe of his right hand sent the ball careening away harmlessly. Before Hermione could recover from the shock of Macnair's might, the ferocious villain had grabbed her by the neck and hung her up in the air.  
  
"Too simple," Macnair hissed before he suddenly cried out painfully. Matt had snuck up behind the executioner and delivered a sharp kick below the belt that not even Macnair could shrug off. The pain caused Macnair to forfeit his grip on Hermione, allowing her to slide back down to the ground. Within moments, Hermione had joined Matt at Macnair's back and joined her wand with his.  
  
"Banishus!" they both cried. The strength of the double banishing charm caused Macnair to be hurtled away from them and land headfirst unceremoniously onto the steps. Not bothering to watch Macnair's painful plummet back down, Hermione and Matt rushed to Harry, who was just beginning regain consciousness.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione screamed, her voice clearly tinged with worry. "What did he do to you?" Harry was still a bit bleary-eyed from the pain, so it took a bit of time to actually figure out that it was Hermione who was kneeling at his side. His eyes went wide with fear.  
  
"You need to get out of here!" Harry rasped as he tried in vain to stand back up. "He'll kill you! He's been sent here to kill you!"  
  
"I'm not leaving without you," Hermione said in a firm voice that left no room for further arguments. Before Harry and Matt could offer any more arguments, however, they were interrupted by the sound of Macnair rising up amongst the shattered granite steps. The executioner's nose seemed to be smashed to be bits, but he didn't seem the least bit affected.  
  
"I'm through playing with you little cretins," Macnair growled. "My master has called for your deaths and it is time for me to follow his orders!"  
  
And, once again, Macnair was on the offensive. Matt and Hermione scattered wildly while Harry searched desperately for a safe place to cast spells from. Macnair swung at Matt and Hermione with a force that would make even the most talented of prizefighters shake in their boots. The sheer strength from the blows left holes in the floor where Matt or Hermione escaped from them. Meanwhile, Harry was now hidden under one of the few unbroken tables of the room, once again casting every spell he could think of at Macnair.  
  
"Flipendo! Expillarmus! Stupefy! Enervio!" Bolt after bolt of energy fired away from the boy's well-worn wand, each charm and hex draining even more of his psyche away from him. He fought back the blackness that threatened to overtake him, his sweat mixing with his spilled blood. It didn't look like his attacks were having the least bit effective on Macnair, who just seemed to absorb the blows while continuing to chase after Matt and Hermione, both of whom were gradually losing their speed. Harry continued to try, however. Matt and Hermione were two of the few friends he ever had, and he wasn't about to lose them without a fight.  
  
But, as it's been seen before, Matt, Harry, and Hermione could not stop Macnair this bitter New Year's night. It was Hermione who was the first to be caught by Macnair. He had managed to grab a sizeable handful of Hermione's hair while she tried to escape from his latest assault. As Hermione screeched in pain, Macnair grabbed her small shoulders and lifted her up on his colossal shoulders, hardly even feeling the punches and kicks that the young woman was attacking him with. Matt foolishly tried to rescue Hermione by trying to hit Macnair with a sharp right hook, but the executioner caught the blow easily and delivered a short backhand that stunned the boy long enough for Macnair to once again grab him by the neck. Macnair felt a slight wave of heat at his back as Harry's Incendio hex hit him but he simply ignored the pain and started to squeeze the two wizards trapped in his firm grip, reveling in the screams that they uttered.  
  
"I think I've seen enough."  
  
A small dart flew through the air and impaled itself into the crick of Macnair's neck. More shocked than hurt, Macnair released and Hermione and yanked. Before he could even really register it happening, the entire room began to spin and become blurry to Macnair's eyes. He rapidly blinked his eyes in an effort to adjust but the powerful poison now coursing through his veins had taken its hold on him and not even he could fight the effects for long. Weaving like a drunken sailor, Macnair had just enough time to spy a shadowy figure that he couldn't quite recognize in the frame of the door before his eyes rolled into the back of his hand and he collapsed to the ground with a mighty crash.  
  
"The old adage is true," Peter Pettigrew said as he slowly moved forward to examine his victim. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."  
  
Not even Harry could sum up the energy to say something to the man who sold out his parents to Voldemort and just saved his friends' lives. Pettigrew looked like a vagabond in a tattered brown robe, his sandy-blond hair looking like a dirty mop on top his head. He put two fingers to Macnair's wrist and held them there for a few moments. Then, with a bit of a frown on his face, he rose up and pulled his wand out of his pocket and walked towards Harry.  
  
"You stay away from me, you traitor!" Harry yelled threateningly while Matt and Hermione were still trying to recover their breath. Harry didn't have any more energy for a spell and, as much as he wanted to back away, the sheer pain in his right leg barely allowed him to crawl. Peter paid no heed to Harry's warning and pointed his wand at Harry's broken leg.  
  
"Much like my old friend Remus," Peter said as a green field of light surrounded his wand, "it's pretty hard to knit bones with a wand, but I'll see what I can do." The glow of the Eneverate charm surrounded the lower half of Harry's leg and slowly coursed its way into Harry's blood stream. Harry tried not to breathe a sigh of relief from the brief respite from pain. With that task done, Peter turned his attentions to the other two.  
  
"Do you two need any help?" Peter asked in what appeared to be a good- natured manner. Hermione was still a bit shell-shocked to respond to the recent turn of events, but Matt managed to cough out a reply. He pointed at the fallen Macnair, who was taking shallow breaths every few seconds.  
  
"What did you do to him?" Matt asked as he pulled himself back up to his knees.  
  
"Simple, really," Peter said with a sly grin, "I just injected him with enough valium to knock out a herd of elephants. We may all have magic at our fingertips, but we're only human in the end." More forceful coughing from the brown-haired boy caused Peter to pat the boy's back. "Don't speak too much, young man, it looks like you might unhinge what's left of your jaw before Madam Pomfrey gets to it. By the way, my name's Peter Pettigrew," he said while extending his hand, which Matt shook with a stunned look on his face.  
  
"Peter Pettigrew? I thought you were supposed to be dead!" Matt said slowly as he shook Peter's hand warily.  
  
"I get that quite a bit," Peter said while shrugging his shoulders. "Believe it or not, however, I'm quite alive and well, no matter how many people would like to see me differently."  
  
"Why did you help us?" Hermione asked coldly, her eyes narrowed to slits. Peter heaved a heavy sigh as he let go of Matt's hand and turned towards the storeroom. With a flick and a swish of his wand, Macnair's battle-axe began to levitate and move slowly to Peter's hands. Peter grunted with effort as he hefted the battle-axe with both hands before unceremoniously tossing the weapon onto Macnair's massive chest.  
  
"As much as I'd like to leave this cheery bloke for the dementors," Peter said with a frown, "Voldemort will be expecting him."  
  
"You didn't answer my question," Hermione said, her voice quite a bit louder this time.  
  
"Let's just say the three of you have a much bigger role to play in the events to come," Peter said seriously. "It's not your time to die tonight." He was looking Matt and Hermione straight into their eyes now. "The two of you must stand by Harry and be prepared. You're the only chance he has for surviving Voldemort's revival."  
  
"You-Know-Who is coming back?" Hermione asked in alarm.  
  
"If I have anything to say about it, yes." Peter responded simply before turning back to the storeroom. "Accio, wand!" he screamed as Macnair's long discarded wand quickly flew into his empty left hand. He brusquely moved Macnair's cloak aside and placed the blood-covered wand in one of the loops of Macnair's belt. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps resonated from above the dungeon.  
  
"That will be Dumbledore and Filch," Peter said while checking his watch. "They're right on schedule." Peter turned back to Harry, who still couldn't find any words to say at this bizarre occurrence.  
  
"Good luck in the second task, Harry," Peter said as the tip of his wand glowing brightly "I'll be watching you."  
  
With those last words, Peter and Macnair disappeared from the devastated classroom, not even leaving a poof of smoke to signify their leaving. Thirty seconds later, Dumbledore and Argus Filch had arrived and carried Harry, Hermione, and Matt to the infirmary.  
  
"What has happened here?" Dumbledore asked with a furious look in his eyes. "Filch! Awaken Poppy while I get these three students to the infirmary!"  
  
"Yes, Professor." Filch said as he bowed his head while giving a suspicious glance towards the students. While Dumbledore checked Harry, Matt spat out another wad of blood and saliva onto the cold floor, his mind wracked with pain.  
  
"Macnair. . . Voldemort. . . Pettigrew," Matt murmured as his world went back and he collapsed in Hermione's arms.  
  
It was one o'clock in the afternoon the next day when Matt once again opened his eyes, his beaten body once again lying in the same infirmary bed that he had occupied the day before. The bright, January sun was trying to pry its way through the hospital's heavy drapes while the near-continuous snowfall that was among Hogwarts for much of the winter had abated for a bit. He managed a look at a fresh bandage on his left shoulder that hid the ugly cut that Macnair gave him while giving his jaw a few experimental stretches. He was relieved to find it back in it's normal state, much to his relief.  
  
"Welcome back, Mister McGonagall."  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the edge of one of the hospital beds, the one belonging to Hermione Granger, to be precise. She had a bright smile of relief on her face despite the purple spots on her face and neck, evidence of Macnair's attacks on her. Matt took a brief glance to his right to find Harry sleeping peacefully in another bed, his right leg wrapped up firmly in a leg cast. He too had his share of bruises and cuts, which were doubtlessly on Matt's face as well.  
  
"Mister Potter took a sleeping draught just before classes began today," Dumbledore said with his usual misty smile. "Allow me to assure you that he is quite all right and will be out of that cast very soon." Matt and Hermione both gave a sigh of relief at that. "The three of you will be getting back into trouble by tomorrow, I imagine."  
  
Matt gave a brief blush and chuckled while Hermione tried to stammer out a reply concerning her high grades and her efforts to keep them out of trouble.  
  
"There's no need to apologize, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said as he patted Hermione's leg gently. "The three of you are to be commended. Macnair is a vicious man with devastating power and you fought him without backing down." It was just then when Matt realized something.  
  
"Professor! You called me. . ."  
  
"I called you by your true name, Matt McGonagall," Dumbledore said firmly. "Miss Granger was already aware of who you are and she has promised that she will not say anything to anyone about it."  
  
"How did you find out?" Matt asked Hermione. Now it was her turn to look shocked and not have an answer.  
  
"Well, I. . ." she began.  
  
"She read your name in the Marauder's Map," Dumbledore said simply. "The same item that allowed her to find that the two of you were being attacked."  
  
"Professor!" Hermione said in hushed tones. "He doesn't know about that! I didn't know you knew about it!"  
  
"You underestimate me Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a merry smile. "As for Matt here not knowing about the Marauder's Map, I think it was high time that he should know. As Peter had most likely told you, the three of you all have a large role to play in the events to come. I think that the more you three knew about each other, the safer you would be."  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell all of you about myself before," Matt said, an almost shameful look on his depressed features. Hermione had known Matt for three months now and she was still shocked to see such an expression on the normally cheery Ravenclaw's face. Hermione always thought of Matt as nothing more than an aimless prankster who didn't care about the consequences of his actions, almost a more intelligent version of Fred or George Weasley. She didn't certainly view him as the type of person who would fight somebody like Macnair tooth-and-nail.  
  
'As usual, there's still quite a bit to learn,' Hermione thought.  
  
"There's no apology needed," Hermione said compassionately as she patted Matt's arm. "We both owe each other our lives, let's just let it go at that."  
  
"Fair enough," Matt said, his voice picking up a bit. "Professor? Mr. Pettigrew, Peter, told us that Voldemort would be revived. Is that true?"  
  
"It is a very likely possibility," Dumbledore said as he picked up a straight-back chair to sit down in between the base of Matt and Hermione's beds. "As much as Harry and Professor Lupin would like to disagree, Peter Pettigrew is a very capable magician when the chips are down, as some Muggles would say. I believe that he is quite capable in succeeding where many others have failed." Matt and Hermione exchanged troubled looks at that comment as Dumbledore cleared his throat awaiting the next question.  
  
"Then why would Wormtail save our lives if we're destined to fight his master later?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Wormtail?" Matt asked confused.  
  
"Wormtail was a nickname that was given to Mister Pettigrew during his days at Hogwarts by his friend Mister Black, Matt," Dumbledore responded. "As for his saving your lives, I am afraid that I cannot answer that for you."  
  
"Is that because you have the answer and don't wish to tell us or is it because you truly don't know?" Hermione asked Dumbledore while Matt gave her a respectful glance at her display of impertinence.  
  
"It is because I am relatively certain that you are all more than capable of finding the answer to that question yourselves," Dumbledore said. It was a response that not only massaged Hermione's ego but also told the two wizards that he wasn't about to answer anything further about their question  
  
"Well," Dumbledore continued as he slowly rose up from his chair, "Madam Pomfrey has told me that the three of you should be able to return to your respective dormitories tomorrow and attend classes." Matt gave a frustrated grunt and hid himself under the covers. "I believe I should go myself before the good nurse throws me out."  
  
"Professor?" Hermione called just before Dumbledore began to leave the room. The wizened headmaster turned around while he smoothed his long, gray-white beard with one of his hands.  
  
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Hermione hesitated a bit before asking her next question to Dumbledore because she wasn't certain on how she wanted to put it.  
  
"I cast some kind of spell against Macnair that I've never seen before," she said as picked up her wand from her table of belongings. "However, when I tried to perform the spell again, I just don't seem to remember how I did it the first time. Could you tell me what happened?"  
  
"The beginning of something quite extraordinary, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied cryptically as he shut the door leaving behind two confused students with their heads full of questions and one sleeping student with too much on his shoulders.  
  
Of course, Hermione, Matt, and Harry received their fair share of visitors that day, particularly after the last classes of the day were over. Hagrid and Madame Maxine were the first to stop by, with Hagrid doting over them to such an extent that it nearly killed the bed-ridden magicians. Fred and George stopped by late in the afternoon to try and cheer them up by offering some of their traditional gifts to friends in the infirmary: a toilet seat (which Matt hastily declined) and some Canary Creams (which all of them hastily declined). Many of the Gryffindors, particularly the fourth-years, had dropped by the check on Harry to see if he would be okay for the Triwizard tournament and Mandy dropped by to deliver some choice comments to them.  
  
"The library is pretty empty without you three around. Madam Pince is looking for somebody to shush." The blond-haired Ravenclaw said deprecatingly as Hermione rolled her eyes. However, the most interesting visitor of the day chose to stop by while Harry, Hermione, and Matt were polishing off their hospital dinner of pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy.  
  
"Any chance I can get a bit of that?" Ron asked while he pointed at Matt's plate. "I only had three pork chops at dinner."  
  
"Only three?" Harry said with a look of mock astonishment. "It's nice to see you're cutting back!"  
  
"You should hear what the school is saying about you guys!" Ron said as he nearly hopped around from bedside to bedside. "Is it true you guys fought a hydra or was it just an army of dementors?"  
  
"I'm afraid it was just a single Death Eater, Ron." Hermione said swallowed a spoonful of potatoes.  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you," Matt followed up.  
  
"You should see the shape the potions room is in!" Ron said excitedly. "Snape tried to use a Repair charm on the room but it didn't do to much good. He's been threatening to skin all of you alive the next time you come back into his class. You may want to watch out for him."  
  
"It's nice to see that somebody in this school isn't worried too much about us," Harry said with a smirk.  
  
"You're being awfully flippant today, Harry. It's awfully surprising." Matt said as he turned to his black-haired friend.  
  
"Speaking of surprises," Hermione said while looking at Matt. "I believe you have something to tell Ron, if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"I was just getting to it, you pontificating putz!" Matt shouted loudly in the hopes that Madam Pomfrey would come in and shoo Ron away.  
  
"Well, what is it?" Ron asked. Matt ran a hand through his messy brown hair before he began.  
  
"My name's not really Matt MacDougal. It's Matt McGonagall." Ron's eyes were so wide that you could have placed a knut in his pupils.  
  
"McGonagall?" Ron asked, his voice suddenly quite rough.  
  
"I'm Professor McGonagall's grandson," Matt said simply while he gave a nasty look to Hermione. "I changed my name because I didn't want anyone to know who I was."  
  
"Whoa," Ron said, quite a bit surprised at the sudden turn of events. "So that's why she's so hard on you all the time! Good Lord, I'd never want that old hag as my grandmother!" Ron tried to choke back his words at that but Matt just smiled.  
  
"Don't apology, I quite agree with you." Matt said.  
  
"It's hard to believe that she hasn't come up to check on you today, Matt," Harry said as he pushed his plate to the side and settled back into his hospital bed.  
  
"She wouldn't care about me if I died," Matt said huffily.  
  
"I'm sure that's not true," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall has always been nice to us. She was probably just too busy to stop by what with the security breach and every thing."  
  
"You don't know her as well as I do, Hermione," Matt said as he violently drank a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "She doesn't care about anybody else except herself and her precious lessons! It's been that way for as long as I can remember! She'd probably be here to check up on her precious Gryffindors well before she ever stops to see her Ravenclaw grandson!"  
  
Ron, Harry, and Hermione had seen this anger streak before from both Matt and Professor McGonagall, so much so that it was difficult for them to believe that they hadn't spotted the resemblance sooner. As hard as they tried, however, neither Ron or Hermione could really understand why. Sure, sometimes Ron hated his brothers and the way they always seemed to pick on them, but he'd never be this harsh with his words about them. Hermione had always had a close relationship with her grandparents from both sides. Professor McGonagall was almost a mother figure to the Gryffindor bookworm, and she often viewed the head of Gryffindor house as an inspiration. Harry understood Matt's behavior far more than Hermione or Ron ever could. He was well aware that your relatives were not always nice and supportive. Before the conversation could go any further, another visitor showed up the door. A visitor that was hardly as welcome or anticipated as Ron.  
  
"Could you give me a good reason as to why you've been here for over twenty minutes talking about nothing, Ronald Weasley?" inquired a calmly irate Severus Snape. Ron couldn't seem to will himself to answer Snape's simple, if not insulting, inquiry. In fact, he suddenly found it incredibly difficult to breathe properly.  
  
"Um, there's no reason sir." Ron spluttered as he gave a panicked look from Matt to Hermione to Harry. "Why are you here, Professor?"  
  
"I wish to speak with these three alone, Weasley," Snape said not even paying attention to Ron's inquiry. "Kindly get out of this infirmary before I turn you into a stone and throw you out of the nearest window." That was all the motivation that Ron needed to stand up at an alarming rate of speed, murmur out a "goodbye" to his friends and rush out of the door leaving the Potions master alone with Harry, Matt, and Hermione.  
  
Snape slowly strolled his way to the incapacitated students, much like a wolf circling its prey before it strikes. The light that the hospital candles seemed to be absorbed by the sallow-faced teacher, giving him an almost devilish look.  
  
"Professor Snape," Harry began, "I just want to say. . ."  
  
"Be quiet, Potter," Snape said while maintaining his eerily calm demeanor. "None of you are to speak unless I speak to you beforehand. Dumbledore believes that your altercation with Macnair is punishment enough for sneaking about where you didn't belong, but I strongly disagree with him. I may not be able to enforce any penalty on you three but I am certainly capable of getting the information I need from you. I want the three of you to answer all of my questions in a clear, concise, and truthful manner." Snape said, glaring at Potter as he emphasized the necessity for honesty. "Do I make myself clear, children?"  
  
"Yes, Professor Snape." The three students said simultaneously. Snape didn't show the slightest amount of approval over their willingness to participate. If anything, it further convinced the hook-nosed Potions professor that they were guilty of more things than he already knew about.  
  
"Now, Mr. McGonagall," Snape drawled out while the Ravenclaw tried to make himself as small as possible. "We already know that the three of you were up after hours. However, what gave you and Mister Potter the utterly foolish and insane idea to sneak into my dungeons?"  
  
"We were, um, looking for something that would help Harry in the second task," Matt said, his eyes looking frantically from Harry to Hermione for assistance.  
  
"So you were helping Potter find out about the second task, were you?" Snape said with a smirk. "Another illegal activity." Snape now turned to Harry. "And just what were you looking for in my store room."  
  
"We were looking for gillyweed, sir." Harry said softly. Snape harrumphed as he walked towards Harry's bedside to stare at him directly in the eyes.  
  
"Did it ever occur to you to ask me if you can have the gillyweed for the second task?" Snape asked him dully. Now it was Harry's turn to search his friends' eyes for an answer.  
  
"We thought that you would have said no, Professor Snape." Harry said as he unwillingly began to sink back into his bed.  
  
"It's nice to see that you managed to get one thing right yesterday, Potter." Snape said, his ever-present glare wearing down on Harry's defenses. "So, the two of you were stealing gillyweed from my store room, Macnair attacked you and the four of you nearly destroyed the class room that I have been teaching in for ten years in the process. Much of my work is in shambles, many of my potions books have been burnt or otherwise smashed, and you didn't even get yourselves killed to alleviate my suffering. Is all this correct, Potter?"  
  
"That's pretty much it in a nutshell," Harry squeaked. Snape was now so close to Harry that their noses nearly touched.  
  
"Here's a bit of advice that I would like you to share with your friends, Potter," Snape said as he gave brief glances to Matt and Hermione. "The next time that you heroes," Snape said sneering at the concept, "choose to exercise your frustrations in a physical manner, please choose a location that doesn't involve my possessions being destroyed in the process."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said meekly, his throat quite dry.  
  
With a whirl of motion, Severus Snape stood up and briskly made his way out the door, his black cloak swishing behind him with every step.  
  
"Professor Snape!" Hermione cried just as Snape's left hand wrapped itself around the door handle. "May I ask you something?"  
  
Matt and Harry gave Hermione some very concerned looks while Snape slowly turned around, squared his shoulders, and stared at his top student.  
  
"What is it, you silly fool?" Hermione ignored Snape's derision of her (she was quite used to it after being in his class for three and a half years).  
  
"When we fought Macnair, I cast a spell I've never seen anyone cast before, a spell I've never even read about it. When I asked Professor Dumbledore about it he told me that it was something extraordinary but he wouldn't go into details." Snape turned around and wrapped his right hand around his weak chin.  
  
"What does this have to do with me, Granger?"  
  
"Well, I was sort of hoping that you could tell me a little bit about it." Snape gave a bitter chuckle.  
  
"If you must honestly know what's so special, then I'll tell you. You cast the Incindarinus charm, a much stronger version of the Incendio spell that is supposed to require a great deal of concentration."  
  
"What's so special about that, Professor?" Harry asked, once again rising up to a sitting position.  
  
"Because the spell hasn't been properly performed in over eighty years," Snape said simply as he turned around and left the infirmary.  
  
"That went well," Matt said.  
  
"At least we didn't lose any points this time," Harry said shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"I'm more worried about what Snape will do to us once we get back in his classroom," Hermione said as her head slammed against the pillow. "All this trouble and all we've gotten out of it is a mass of nicks and cuts, some broken bones, and even more trouble. We didn't even get the gillyweed!" The brown-haired Gryffindor expected Harry or Matt to say something to that so she was quite surprised when the two boys simply responded with huge grins.  
  
"You underestimated us, Hermione," Matt said, his sly smile returning as he used his wand to summon his knap-sack to his bedside. He opened up the center pouch of it and rooted around for a few moments before procuring a gray slimy ball of what Hermione thought looked like a collection of tied rat-tails.  
  
"How did you get that out of the dungeon?" Hermione said as she took a closer look at the gillyweed.  
  
"Matt covered the thing with one of his invisibility potions so that no one would see it," Harry answered.  
  
"So we got something out of this after all," Matt said exuberantly. Hermione's cheeky smile was brilliant as she stared at her two clever friends.  
  
"This is wonderful!" Hermione said as she stuffed the gillyweed back into Matt's knap-sack. "Now all we have to do is to prepare you for the second task, Harry."  
  
"And we've got more than a month to take care of that," Harry finished with a smile as the three friends whooped and congratulated each other for a job well done. Madam Pomfrey came in several minutes later with three freshly prepared sleeping draughts which each of them eagerly accepted. As much as they were charged with anticipation of the upcoming days, they were all still quite worn out from their fight with Macnair. Fifteen minutes later, Harry, Hermione, and Matt were all sound asleep, each of them snoring lightly as the gentle light of the full moon shined on them.  
  
The students' last visitor of the night entered the room quietly thirty minutes later. It was a small, brown and white tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes. The feline had spent much of the day watching over the injured forms of the young wizards, not making its presence known to anyone but Dumbledore. With a swish of it's little, black-spotted tail, the tabby cat almost marched to the center bed where Matt was sleeping. A short leap brought the cat up to the bed itself and it watched the young man's slow breathing for quite a while. Once she was satisfied, the tabby cat stretched its legs lazily and swished her tail about a bit and curled up at the far side of the bed and continued to watch Matt for quite a while before dozing off herself.  
  
"It seems that the first portions of Riddle's prophecies are coming true, Professor Dumbledore," Snape said as he walked hastily along side the Hogwarts headmaster, their path only lit by Snape's wand. "We should have been better prepared for this!"  
  
"We must not frustrate ourselves on what has already occurred, Severus," Dumbledore said sagely. "We must focus ourselves on being better prepared for what is ahead."  
  
"That spell that Miss Granger used against Macnair. It appears that her hidden power may be making itself known well before the boys' has. Do you realize what this means?" Snape said, trying not to be perturbed by Dumbledore's calm demeanor.  
  
"Yes, it means that I win the Riddle prophecy betting pool," Dumbledore replied. "You should have had more faith in Miss Granger, Severus. I'll have to call Ollivander tomorrow to collect my winnings."  
  
"This is a serious matter, Albus!" Snape shouted through gritted teeth. "This means that Voldemort's revival will be happening soon!"  
  
"I'm afraid that there is little we can do to prevent Riddle's return to power, Severus," Dumbledore said gravely with a bit of a sigh. "Pettigrew is more than capable of avoiding the Ministry Aurors until the deed is done."  
  
"You show an alarming amount of respect for that worm's capabilities," Snape grumbled.  
  
"Do not start to underestimate him, Severus," Dumbledore warned. "Mister Black made the same mistake, as did James and Lily." Severus shuddered at the mention of his old school rivals. "He's already made fools of all of us several times this year alone."  
  
"The little rat can't run away forever, Albus," Snape said coldly.  
  
"It won't be long until he won't have to run any longer," Dumbledore countered. Snape and Dumbledore continued their trek towards Dumbledore's office with only the sound of their footsteps accompanying them. Once they arrived at the Headmaster's office, the light snoring of Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, was the only sound about. Dumbledore walked into his domicile slowly, stroking Fawkes' brilliantly colored plumes as he removed his gaudy hat from off his snow-white hair.  
  
"I want you to look after Potter, Granger, and McGonagall, Severus." Dumbledore said as he slowly took a seat in his favorite chair. "Even Mad- Eye can't be watching them all the time." Snape grumbled a bit upon hearing his latest assignment. The idea of following those meddlesome troublemakers was hardly the most important thing he could do with his time.  
  
"Are you afraid of doing this, Severus?" Dumbledore said with a jolly smile. "I'm sure that the worse thing they could do to you is make you smile. I'm sure you will be able to survive their company."  
  
"And what will you do with the children, Albus?" Snape asked.  
  
The aging headmaster gave a wistful glance at the full moon before replying. "They must be prepared, Severus. They are capable of doing things that the world has not seen in hundreds of years. We will let them see their own way for now. They will begin their formal training when the time is right."  
  
Snape thought he saw a tear running down Dumbledore's face, but he just chalked it up to a trick of the light.  
  
"I just wish it didn't have to be this way, Severus."  
  
Another wild chapter comes to an exciting close. Well, at least I hope you thought it was exciting anyway. Quite a few things were revealed here, probably a bit more than I wanted to reveal at this stage of the game, but I'll just have to roll with the punches as they came. Once again, thanks for reading my humble work and I would appreciate it if you could review my story. I promise that I will reply your review with one of my own. Scouts honor. Anyway, how about the next chapter preview?  
  
The 24th of February has rolled around and its time for the second task! Matt and Hermione will take a backseat as The Boy Who Lived takes center stage. Will he shine again for the entire wizarding world to see as he challenged the tricks and traps of the merpeople? Will he be able to keep up with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor? Find out the answers to this and more in the next stirring installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery: The Second Task. Coming soon to a computer screen near you. 


	8. The Second Task

Well, it looks like we're nearing the halfway point of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery, and I must admit that the story is going a little longer than I thought. Don't worry, however, I promised my readers fifteen chapters and that's what I'm going to give them! I'm sure that I'll think of something, just as soon as my isolated brain cells stop fighting each other and start helping me out. Well, my weekly ranting and raving is out of the way! On to the disclaimer!  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not own me and, in turn, I do not own Harry Potter. It seems like an even trade out in my book and I haven't seen any complaints so far! So, why mess with a good thing?  
  
Chapter Eight- The Second Task  
  
Seven weeks have passed since the night when Macnair broke into Hogwarts and the students, at least most of them, were gearing up for the long haul that was the spring semester. Snape's daily assignments were now maddeningly difficult and were becoming nearly impossible to deduce, even for the Slytherins. It seemed that Professor McGonagall had a new Transfiguration task for every single class, leaving most students impatient and distraught when they entered her classroom. Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts also seemed to be becoming even more anti-social than before, if such a thing were possible, and handling the volatile creatures became an even more dangerous task than before. Perhaps the most admired professor of the lot was Professor Flitwick, who every year it seemed, sympathized with the increasing labors that the spring semester brought and tried not to weigh them down with too much homework.  
  
"Just remember," the diminutive Charms professor said as he performed another amazing feat in front of the astounded and grateful eyes of his students, "not to underestimate what you will be taught in my classroom."  
  
Popular appeal for Professor Moody was now at an all-time low. Ever since the former Auror was denied the right to teach the Unforgivable curses to students after the debacle with Matt MacDougal, he seemed to satiate his frustrations by assigning more and more essays and field exams. The sheen of fascination and respect that many students had for the grizzled professor and the start of the term had faded away to be replaced by feelings of bare tolerance or sheer anger. Fred and George Weasley nearly dared to pull a prank on the paranoid professor, but their fear of him quickly removed Moody from their even- expanding target list.  
  
However, the three students that pushed themselves the hardest were Matt, Harry, and Hermione. Silently agreeing that they should no longer be unprepared for something like the incident at New Years Eve, the three now engaged in laborious daily training rituals involving everything from practicing hexes to learning the martial arts. While Matt and Hermione taught Harry how to swim, Matt taught Harry and Hermione everything he knew about physical self-defense. While Hermione read up about every hex and charm that she could find in the library, Harry taught Matt and Hermione everything he knew about magical defense. Ron had attempted to adopt their new rigorous schedule for about a week until giving up in frustration when he discovered it left very little time for goofing off.  
  
"I still don't understand how you guys ever do it." Ron claimed, as he watched Harry swim laps in the frigid water of the lake. Harry had taken to swimming very quickly and nowadays he nearly spent as much time in the water as he did on his racing broom.  
  
"It's, huff, simple when you, huff, put your mind to it," Hermione grunted as she continued to practice her martial arts while talking to Ron. She was performing snap kicks that reached higher than her head. Ron gave an involuntary wince as he imagined the unfortunate fellow who ever stood in the way of something like that. After performing fifty kicks with the right leg she gave a few puffs of breath in the cold, winter air before shifting her stance and began kicking with her left leg. "You could probably be doing this too, Ron, if you didn't spend all your time pulling pranks and playing wizard chess."  
  
"I wouldn't say that, Hermione," Matt said as he sat Indian-style on the snowy forest floor as he held his wand in one hand and a large book of spells in the other. "I still incite as much mayhem and general havoc as I did before we got started with this and I'm coming along just as good as you two are," he quipped as he placed the book aside and rolled the sleeves of his wizard robe up. "Forcis!"  
  
Matt's newest incantation caused his body to hurtle backwards, his butt dragging through the snow as he tried desperately to slow his momentum before he tumbled into the lake. Ron was cackling as Matt dried himself off and stumbled back to his spell book.  
  
"Perhaps you shouldn't speak so soon, Matt," Hermione tutted over Ron's laughter with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Don't worry about me, Hermione," Matt said as he sat back down to regain some composure. "Just a momentary setback," he said as he pointed his wand at Hermione's feet. "Forcis!" Matt's second attempt was far more successful than the first, causing a wave of sheer energy to collide with the snow near and around Hermione and hurtle into the air. Moments later, the bushy-haired Gryffindor was covered by a good twenty pounds of snow.  
  
"I just needed the proper motivation," Matt said while Ron was now turning red from laughing so hard. Hermione continued to glare at the mischievous Ravenclaw as she stood unmoving despite now looking like a hastily formed snowwoman.  
  
"Do I even want to know what just happened?" Harry asked as he strode up to join his friends, water still dripping off his chest and hair as he summoned his towel from his knap-sack.  
  
"Nothing some perfectly good human transfiguration couldn't cure," Hermione growled menacingly as she began to brush the snow off her body.  
  
"Don't mind her, Harry," Matt said, as he stood up off the cold ground, brushing the snow off his blue jeans. "She's always giving people cold receptions." Hermione ceased her brushing to flip Matt off while Harry's back was turned.  
  
"Thanks for teaching me that heat shield charm, Matt," Harry said as he ran his towel through his hair. "I don't think I could have survived in that water without it!"  
  
"Don't mention it, Harry," Matt said with a smile. "I'm always willing to go the extra mile to help the people I care about."  
  
"Which probably explains why Hermione has so much snow on her clothes right now," Harry retorted while he assisted his friend by removing several chunks of snow from her hair.  
  
"She just wanted to make sure that my force push hex worked!" Matt said with an innocent grin. Matt heard a significant growl from Hermione after saying those words.  
  
"Perhaps we should get back to the castle before Hermione turns you into a rabbit," Harry said as he put his arm around Hermione's shoulders. Ron and Matt gave each other a sideways glance while Hermione tried to hide her blushing as they headed back to the warm confines of Hogwarts. The four of them could see the castle gates when a mysterious flying object suddenly crashed into the back of Ron's head.  
  
"Yowch!" Ron said as he rubbed his head furiously, recognizing what hit him immediately. "You stupid owl!"  
  
The owl ignored the cries of his master and continued to flutter around the four students at a very unnecessary rate of speed. Pigwidgeon, or "Pig" as he was often called, was a gift that Ron received at the end of the third term from Sirius Black. Harry's godfather called it a sort of "replacement pet" for Scabbers. At first, the youngest male Weasley was thrilled with the idea of an owl all to himself but he soon grew weary of the owl's hyperactive behavior and unerring tendency to crash into things for no apparent reason. In many ways, the diminutive, fluffy brown owl was quite similar to Ron. What Pig didn't have ways in the area of competence, he made up for with enthusiasm and sheer energy.  
  
"When are you going to learn that you don't crash into the person that you have a letter for?" Ron screamed in frustration. Pigwidgeon, for an apology, continued to hoot merrily as he flew around Ron and the others.  
  
"Don't be so hard on him!" Matt said with a good-natured grin as he held out his arm for Pig to land on. The Ravenclaw laughed as Pig eagerly accepted and started to bounce up and down like an out-of-control spring. "I'd just love to have an owl. I know my grandmother would never give me one!"  
  
"I'd be happy to give you that silly git if he would just listen to a single word I say," Ron snarled as he glared at his pet. Harry, Hermione, and Matt knew he was joking. For all the words and nasty looks that Ron would give to him, he was the first to jump to Pig's protection whenever somebody talked down on him.  
  
"Let's just see what this letter is about," Matt said as he harshly plucked the note from Pigwidgeon's leg. Matt perused the cover of the letter first before shrugging his shoulders and handing it to Harry.  
  
"It's from Snuffles," Matt said as Harry accepted the note.  
  
"Snuffles" was the pseudonym of Sirius Black. The former prisoner of Azkaban was currently hiding out in the outskirts of Hogsmeade so that he could better watch out for Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. The day after Macnair's attack, Harry and Hermione told Matt of Sirius' innocence and what really occurred during the night of the murder of James and Lily Potter.  
  
"What does the note say?" Hermione asked while she tried to read the note over Harry's shoulder.  
  
"It says to send the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl," Harry said as he rolled up the parchment.  
  
"Wonder why he wants to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron asked.  
  
"Maybe we can go visit him!" Matt said as he jumped a bit in anticipation. Since learning about Black's escape from Azkaban and his well-earned reputation for being a rabble-rouser during his own days at Hogwarts, Matt had been pestering Harry to pay him a visit for the last several weeks.  
  
"Whatever the case," said Harry, "I'm going to fetch a different owl to send a letter back."  
  
"Matt and I will make an early trip to the library," Hermione said. "It's high time that we finish our History of Magic essay for Professor Binns," she continued, making sure to speak over Matt's grumbling. "What about you, Ron?"  
  
"I'll go to the owlery with Harry just to make sure that this idiot," Ron said while pointing a finger at Pigwidgeon, "doesn't get into more trouble." Pigwidgeon continued to race up and down the length of Matt's arm, seemingly deaf to the frequent complaints of his owner. Soon, the four friends had arrived in the lobby of Hogwarts and went their separate ways.  
  
It took a half an hour for Ron and Harry to make their way back from the owlery and spot Matt and Hermione sitting at their usual study table. Both of the students were writing with their quills while they leafed their way through a generous supply of books piled next to them. The two of them moved at such a frenetic pace that it almost seemed they were racing one another.  
  
"Say what you want about Binns," Matt said while Harry and Ron took their seats and pulled out their own parchments, "but this essay on Olric the Oafish has been a real breeze to write!" Hermione looked up from her parchment and rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"You're just happy to writing about a historical figure that's just as lame-brained and foolish as you are!" she said as lifted her essay of the table to proofread it.  
  
"That's going a bit too far," Harry said sternly. "You underestimate Matt quite a bit."  
  
"Damn right," Matt said, thumping Harry on the shoulder in appreciation.  
  
"Don't be so sure," Hermione said as she smiled at her two friends. "After all, this is a man who accidentally turned his wife into a turnip and couldn't remember how to turn her back for seven months!"  
  
"Actually, I wouldn't mind having a turnip for a wife," said Fred Weasley's voice. "That would make her much easier to manage!"  
  
"Never thought I'd see you two here," Ron said with a grin as his brothers came into view.  
  
"Don't make us hurt you, ya stupid prat," George said as he gave a light chokehold to his little brother.  
  
"All kidding aside," Hermione said as she shook her head at the squabbling siblings. "Why are you here?"  
  
"McGonagall wants to see you in her office," Fred said. "Said to come as soon as possible, she said."  
  
"Her office?" Hermione said. Harry and Matt both began to hum a few bars of The Condemned Elegy before she shushed them. "I best go see what this is about," she said firmly as she stood up from her chair and began to pack up her belongings. "Could you put away my books for me, Matt?" she asked playfully.  
  
"Fine, I'm your slave," Matt scoffed as he fought back the urge to throw one of the hefty tomes at her.  
  
"And you best remember that," she said shrewdly as she walked out with a sniggering Fred and George Weasley in tow.  
  
"She wasn't in the Great Hall for dinner," Harry said as he kicked one of the rusted over bathroom sinks in frustration. "Where on earth could she be?"  
  
"Don't worry about it, Harry!" Matt said casually as he squirmed to find a more comfortable position on the toilet seat he was perched upon. "I'm sure she's perfectly all right."  
  
"Maybe Professor McGonagall expelled her!" Moaning Myrtle crowed as she flitted about from one side of the bathroom to the other. It was nine o'clock at night and Harry and Matt were in the middle of their weekly pilgrimage to the gloomy ghoul's bathroom. The boys had invited Ron several times to join them on the trip but he refused right off the bat. And, after a half hour of standing around and chatting with the morose Myrtle, Harry could hardly blame him.  
  
"In your dreams, Myrtle," Matt scoffed.  
  
"Don't interrupt my dreams, you silly boy," Myrtle pestered while Matt cringed at the mention of Myrtle's pet name for him. Matt didn't have any complaints about visiting the ghost of the former class recluse. She reminded him of his great aunt Morgana, who would feed him lemon drops while she told him stories about his grandmother. Most children would have found such a thing extremely dull, but Matt always viewed the meeting as a valuable source of blackmail.  
  
"You call me silly boy one more time Myrtle and I'll tell Peeves that you have a crush on him!" Matt yelled, causing Myrtle to blanch in horror. Peeves was the mischievous poltergeist whose purpose in life seemed to be to cause as much mayhem and havoc as inhumanly possible. Harry remembered back to an all-undead party in his second year when Peeves sent Myrtle back to her bathroom in tears amidst a shower of rotten peanuts and numerous insulting remarks.  
  
"Don't you dare say a word to that scoundrel about me!" Myrtle shouted. "He's too much like Colin Grant back when I was in school. He'd constantly steal my glasses and would spread these awful rumors about me. I got back at him once I died, though," Myrtle said with the same grin she always had when she talked about pestering her childhood tormentors, "I haunted his wife for months on end. It serves him right for trying to make me feel so miserable."  
  
Matt groaned in frustration as Myrtle continued to prattle on about her miserable time at Hogwarts. It seemed to only take the slightest remark for Myrtle to morph into a self- pitying ball of complaints about times gone by. 'For somebody who keeps telling us that she's had a rotten past, she sure likes to go on about it.' Matt grumbled.  
  
"All right! All right!" Matt shouted over Myrtle's incessant yammering. "I won't tell Peeves anything! Just quit badgering us!"  
  
Tears began to well up in Myrtle's eyes from the tone of Matt's voice. "Why do you have to be so rude to me?" she said sadly. "It's not like I've done anything to you."  
  
"Except for peeking in the Prefects bathroom hoping you could see Harry naked." Myrtle blushed quite a bit at that declaration. It hadn't taken long for Matt to realize that Myrtle took quite a liking to Harry, although he honestly had no clue why and he didn't really feel like asking.  
  
"The mermaid's song!" Harry roared. Matt and Myrtle both turned to Harry with looks of bewilderment on their faces.  
  
"What are you going on about, Harry?" Matt asked, pleased to finally be getting away from his inane conversation with Moaning Myrtle.  
  
"We've taken what you'll sorely miss," Harry answered, recalling the fourth line. "Professor McGonagall must have taken Hermione to be part of the second task!"  
  
"We've taken what you'll sorely miss," Matt pronounced. "An hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took."  
  
"But past an hour the prospect's black," Harry continued, his eyes widening with realization. "Too late, it's gone, it won't come back!" Matt paled as he finally understood the full implication of the song.  
  
"You mean to tell me Hermione's life is on the line in this task?" Matt whispered urgently  
  
"It sure looks like it," Harry said soberly.  
  
"Why would the Ministry do something so foolish!" Matt said as he rose up from his seat. "It's only a contest, after all!"  
  
"This is just insane," Harry said as he paced the floor. "I don't want anybody else involved in this, least of all Hermione!"  
  
"I thought you liked me most of all, Harry!" Myrtle wept out as she finally caught on to the gist of the conversation. "Why didn't the merpeople take me?"  
  
"Probably because the contest organizers wanted to give Harry a reason to go down there instead of something he'd rather leave behind and forget, you pimply monstrosity! Matt shouted, regretting the words just as soon as he said them. While Harry gave Matt a cross look, Myrtle slowly slinked away from the two wizards, huge gobs of tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
"Myrtle," Harry said cautiously. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."  
  
"I HOPE YOUR LITTLE GIRLFRIEND DROWNS!" Myrtle screamed as she flew straight into one of the urinals, nearly splashing Harry and Matt.  
  
"That was hardly necessary, Matt," Harry said with his arms crossed. Matt's tongue was stretching his right cheek as he searched for an answer.  
  
"You're right," Matt said simply as he walked over to the toilet where Myrtle made her melodramatic exit. With one quick motion, the Ravenclaw pushed down the handle and five gallons of water plus one depressed ghost flooded into the lake of the giant squid.  
  
"Matt!" Harry shouted.  
  
"What?" Matt said with a shrug of his shoulders as he started to make his quick exit from the loo. "With any luck, she'll scare off some of the sea creatures and make tomorrow's task a little easier!"  
  
Harry was fortunate enough to even get a few hours of sleep the night before the second task. The vision of Hermione thrashing about at the bottom of the lake gasping for oxygen seemed to haunt him every time he closed his eyes. Ron and Neville kept trying to assure him that Dumbledore would hardly allow for someone to be harmed,, but that was small consolation for Harry. Finally, Ron was forced to cast a sleeping hex on Harry so that he could at least get some rest.  
  
Harry was greeted the next morning by the concerned faces of Ron and Matt, the latter of whom ad somehow managed to sneak back into the Gryffindor common room. Harry stretched for his glasses while Ron handed him a tray of bacon along with a healthy supply of pancakes and syrup.  
  
"You've got three hours before the task starts, Harry!" Matt said as he removed the gillyweed from his knap-sack and handing it to him. "Best to eat up and take a shower!"  
  
It took quite a bit of convincing on the part of Ron and Matt for Harry to consent to eating breakfast-in- bed. The black-haired boy stared out of one of the windows of the dormitory to spot an impressive array of grandstands that seemed to have been built over night. A group of Ministry officials were already about the lake, some monitoring the denizens of the water while others prepared the stands.  
  
The next two hours before the second task were agonizing for Harry. Matt and Ron were constantly at his side asking him if he would be okay. Lavendar Brown and Parvati Patil would constantly stare at Harry and then turn to each other and whisper furiously as soon as Harry looked at them. Harry was reasonably certain that Professor Trelawney had seen a grim outcome for him today. Ginny Weasley's face was disturbingly pale, nearly the same shade as it was on the day of the first task. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy and many of the Slytherins had their POTTER STINKS buttons out in full force and were teasing Harry about Hermione's absence.  
  
"Is little orphan Potter crying over his little girlfriend?" Pansy Parkinson screeched with her all-too familiar rat-like voice, causing Goyle and Crabbe to nearly double over with laughter. It seemed like Harry had spent two months in the Great Hall when Ludo Bagman, the organizer of the Triwizard Tournament, appeared, looking as resplendent and over-dressed as ever in his purple and black wizard robes.  
  
"Students of Hogwarts," Bagman cried, his voice magically amplified with a Sonorus charm. "Please make your way to the grand stands to watch the second task. Triwizard Champions, please follow me."  
  
Once again, Harry was the center of attention as he, along with the other champions, followed Bagman out of the crowded Great Hall and made their way to the tiny lake. The jam- packed grandstands seemed to explode with applause as Fluer Delaclour, Viktor Krum, and Cedric Diggory made their way to the site of the event. Harry flanked the other participants, the ball of gillyweed crammed into the crook of his right arm. Matt and Ron were walking behind him at either side as a show of support, like foot soldiers accompanying the general to the front lines.. As Bagman approached the shallows of the lake, Harry looked out into the stands for any sign of his godfather or any members of the Weasley family.  
  
"I'll be watching you Harry," the small voice of Peter Pettigrew rang in Harry's mind. He shuddered at the memory of the statement, knowing full well that Pettigrew was most likely out there somewhere.  
  
"That's weird," Matt said, snapping Harry out of his reveries.  
  
"What's weird?" asked Ron, his eyes still on the crowd.  
  
"Your brother is one of the Triwizard judges, Ron," Matt said, pointing to the judge's table at a lanky red-haired young man with a stuffy look on his face. Ron rolled his eyes at the sight.  
  
"Wonderful! I'm sure we'll be hearing about this from Percy," Ron said as he quickly looked away from his older brother. "Who would be stupid enough to make him a judge?"  
  
"Barty Crouch must have taken ill or something," Harry said, his eyes also on the judge's table. Percy currently worked at the Department of International Magical Cooperation where Bartimus Crouch was his superior. Percy had made certain to remark what an incredible man that Mr. Crouch was on every occasion, so much so that Fred and George claimed that they were nearly ready to place their older brother in Azkaban under the charge of extreme egotism and hero-worship.  
  
"That's strange," Matt said as he cupped his chin in a vaguely Snape- like fashion. "Crouch has always had a reputation for being punctual even under the most extreme circumstances."  
  
"No wonder Percy fawns over him so much!" Ron scoffed. "Seems like two peas in a pod, those two."  
  
"It was his branch of the Ministry that helped organize this tournament with Bagman," Matt said, ignoring Ron's petulant complaining. "What would make him miss something like this?"  
  
"That's something we can save for later," Harry said resolutely, still trying to keep his mind on the task ahead of him.  
  
"Sorry about that Harry," Matt said sheepishly.  
  
"Champions, please make your way to the edge of the lake!" Bagman's voice ordered over the cheers of the audience. Before Harry could make his way there, Matt had taken a firm grip on his shoulders and turned him around, a look of pure seriousness and intensity on his usually carefree features.  
  
"You go find Hermione. We'll be cheering you on the whole way," he said evenly.  
  
"Get out there and show Cedric Diggory who the real champion of Hogwarts is!" Ron shouted with enthusiasm, causing Harry to smile in relief that he wasn't really alone on this one. Ron and Matt dashed to the stands, while Harry removed his robes and stripped down to a pair of red swim trunks. Once the four champions had arrived at their destination, Bagman continued.  
  
"The task will begin on my whistle! The champions have one hour to recover their hostage and return to the surface. On the count of three, then. One. . .two. . .three!"  
  
The harsh sound of the whistle seemed to bounce off the lake as the thousands of people in the stands erupted in cheers. Harry, not even bothering to look at what the other champions were doing, quickly peeled a generous slice of the gillyweed from the amassed ball and placed in his mouth before dashing out into the water. The late-winter weather still left the lake a bit cold, but that problem was easily solved with a carefully constructed heat shield. While the other champions dove underwater, Harry treaded a bit, awaiting for the effects of the gillyweed to take place. Quite a few people in the stands were murmuring with confusion. Some of the Slytherins even began to laugh out loud.  
  
Harry was just about to dive underwater out of impatience and frustration until a sharp sensation stung him just above his neck, almost like he had been shot. He quickly brought his hands to his neck in hopes of alleviating the pain but was quite surprised to feel something that wasn't supposed to be there. Small slits had grown just below Harry's ears, the winter air causing them to flap about like chimes in the summer afternoon. He suddenly couldn't take in any oxygen through his lungs, his head starting to spin anemically.  
  
'Looks like they don't call it gillyweed for nothing,' Harry mused as he poked a bit more at his newly developed gills before diving underwater.  
  
The icy depths of the lake felt wonderful to Harry as he swam deeper and deeper, great gulps of water filtering in and out of his gills with every breath. Harry had just recovered from the shock of this occurrence only to discover that his hands had expanded, almost looking like the webbed hands of a duck. The skin of his lower legs began to loosen and expand to compliment the sudden bone-growth. He twisted around and looked at his now elongated feet, which were far more suitable for the underwater escapade before him.  
  
'Eat your heart out Aquaman,' Harry thought with a hard grin as he continued his quest downward, his flipper-like feet propelling him at speeds that he could not possibly accomplish under normal circumstances.  
  
It had taken several minutes for Harry to adjust his eyes to the dark- blues and inky black shades of the water. Even the use of a Lumos spell only allowed Harry to see about fifteen feet in front of him, a far cry from the normal standards. The unyielding silence of the ocean would have normally irked Harry, but the effects of the gillyweed made it seem like a second home, both physically and psychologically. His body was warmed to such an extent that he no longer even needed the heat shield. Small schools of fish seemed to watch him as he went further and further underwater, quite shocked at the very uncommon site of a young man with gills.  
  
Harry was still swimming about the middle of the ocean, hoping for a sign as to where to go. He was reasonably certain that Hermione would be at the bottom but he didn't want to take that risk if it were possible. His speed and limited vision hurt him greatly, the ocean seemingly becoming a different place every time he blinked. His frustration was beginning to resurface again.  
  
"How are you getting on?"  
  
A flurry of bubbles erupted from Harry's mouth as he whirled around to see the transparent form of Moaning Myrtle. He tried to shout out at her for nearly causing him a heart attack but nothing came out of his mouth except another load of bubbles. Myrtle giggled quite a bit at that while Harry slapped his forehead with his webbed hands and cast a Sonorus charm on himself.  
  
"Why are you down here?" Harry said, his voice distorted, but still coherent through the water.  
  
"Hermione is at the bottom of the lake about a half mile west of here!" Myrtle said urgently. "You've got to hurry it up!"  
  
"Thanks, Myrtle!" Harry said, giving the ghost a thumbs up in appreciation. "What made you change your mind?" Harry could spot Myrtle blushing even in the dank ocean.  
  
"Well. . .," Myrtle said slowly, "it's just that. . ." her eyes suddenly went wide. "HARRY, LOOK OUT!"  
  
A pair of grindylows had snuck up behind Harry during his conversation with Myrtle and now had their long fingers clutched tightly around Harry's legs. Their shiny-white jaws and wrinkled green skin looked menacing in the blue-green hues of the water. Harry frantically thought back to his classes with Professor Lupin on how to deal with these water demons. In seconds, Harry had his wand pointed at the two grindylows, the tip of it burning with white energy.  
  
"Forcis!" he cried, as a force bolt emerged from his wand. The bolt immediately split into two and connected right between the eyes of both demons, causing them to release their grip harshly, a small stream of blood surfacing from Harry's calf. Myrtle, never being one to watch violence, stared in shock at the wound.  
  
"Run away, Harry!" Myrtle shouted. As much as Harry would have liked to do so, he also learned in Professor Lupin's class that grindylows also tended to travel in packs. Sure enough, as soon as he turned around he was greeted by about two-dozen grindylows, each of them looking none too pleased that a disgusting human had just pounded their brethren.  
  
Harry had managed to take out about half of them with various hexes before the rest of the water demons were upon him. They all surrounded the black-haired Gryffindor and began to lash at the boy with their sharp jaws and spindly fangs. Even underwater, Harry's body was a wave of motion as he used his arms and legs to ward the creatures off. Several of his kicks connected quite harshly with some of the creatures' horned skulls, but it only seemed to increase their fury. Myrtle was still screaming in fright as several of the water demons finally connected with their fangs and jaws, causing even more of Harry's blood to spray out into the ocean.  
  
'This is a pretty lousy way to die,' Harry thought as he tried to drown out both the pain and Myrtle's screaming. Several more dozen grindylows had joined in the battle, attracted by the scent of Harry's blood. After several minutes of intense fighting, over a dozen long hands had trapped Harry in their grip. clasping upon his arms.  
  
Harry often thought about how he would die. He always imagined a sea of red visions slowly forming into black as he would fade away into the great beyond. Whether it was Voldemort, Macnair, or some vicious creature, Harry always knew he would die someday. It almost seemed to be what people were waiting for him to do. After all, his parents died to save the world from Voldemort, didn't they? Why should he be any different? He was lined up to be a martyr since that fateful Halloween night.  
  
"Run, Harry!" Myrtle screamed, her voice seemingly wedging itself into his mind's eye.  
  
"It will all be okay, Harry!" his mother said soothingly, the scrapes of battle outside his room. "I'll die before I let them have you!"  
  
"I promise to protect you," Sirius Black said as they made their way out of the Shrieking Shack. "It is my duty. I am your godfather after all."  
  
"If Snape hadn't been performing that counter-curse all that time," Professor Quirrel sneered at him, "you would have fallen off that broomstick and broken your neck!"  
  
"It's you that has to go on, Harry," Ron said while riding a porcelain- white horse. "Not me, not Hermione, you!"  
  
"You leave Harry alone, you monster!" Matt screamed as hurtled his bloodied and broken body at Macnair.  
  
"Get out of here!" James Potter said soberly as he pushed Lily and his young son to the living room. "Protect Harry!"  
  
Protect Harry. . .  
  
Protect Harry. . .  
  
Protect Harry. . .  
  
'Yes, that's always been that way with you, hasn't it?' a voice inside Harry's head said evenly. 'So many people have sacrificed their lives for you and what have you given them? Why should you even The Boy Who Lived? It would be more accurate to call you The Boy Who Should Have Died! It was your mother who cast that reflective shield on you, not yourself. You were just a means to an end! You always have been! You always will be!'  
  
"That's not true!" Harry screamed as he fought the wave of pain and nausea that assaulted him.  
  
'You wouldn't have gotten the Sorcerer's Stone if it wasn't for Ron, Snape, and Hermione! And what about in the Chamber of Secrets with that basilisk? You didn't honestly think that it was you who summoned Fawkes and the sword of Gryffindor, did you? And what about Pettigrew? You didn't even manage to catch him! Your godfather might get sent back to Azkaban because you don't know how to take care of yourself. It's so sad that so many people have sacrificed their lives to support such an abysmal failure!'  
  
"I AM NOT A FAILURE!!" Harry screamed as his emerald-green eyes flashed furiously. The gills below his ears began to flip about wildly as though they were caught in a typhoon. Every cell of his body seemed charged as sparks began to resonate from his body. Some of the grindylows began to inch away from their prey, quite confused about the goings about but not willing to run away from such easy prey. Soon, Harry's entire body was thinly covered with a field of pure electricity, something in his body allowing him to survive such a thing despite the vicious conditions of the water.  
  
"I CAN PROTECT MYSELF!" The electrical field gave a short pulse before expanding violently in a ten-foot radius of Harry's heart. Some of the more unfortunate grindylows could not even run as they were struck with 200,000 volts of energy, frying their brittle bones in mere hundredths of a second. Some of the other demons were able to flee for the slightest moment, but the field soon eclipsed them too, burning the creatures' bodies into cinders of dust that were soon broken up by the water and forgotten.  
  
Harry gasped at the sudden loss of energy as his eyes changed back to its normal elegant hue. The gills on the sides of his neck began to flutter once again at their normal rate. There was not a single living creature even close to Harry. Only Moaning Myrtle remained, who continued to stare at Harry as if she had seen a ghost.  
  
"What just happened?" Harry said as he stared at his hands in confusion. "What did I just do?" Harry's confusion only caused Myrtle to go paler and back further away.  
  
"I think I'll go back to my bathroom now," Myrtle said as Harry looked at her. "There are all sorts of strange creatures in these waters." Myrtle's pace seemed to increase significantly the more Harry seemed to stare at her. "It can, well, be quite frightening!"  
  
"Well," Myrtle said as she absently pointed back at Hogwarts, "Igottagobyebye!" she said as she rocketed out of the water and out of Harry's sight. For another minute or so, Harry stood floating in the water, searching every corner of his mind to try and figure out just what had happened. Then, another vision sprang into his head, a young woman with bushy-brown hair who might die because of him. Without another thought, Harry zoomed down to the ocean floor, not even knowing how much time he had left.  
  
It took another ten minutes of frantic searching before Harry finally found the cove of the merpeople. It was hardly the amazingly advanced civilization that Harry pictured it to be. Stone houses seemed lined up and down the ocean floor, some of them wrapped with green and blue algae while others were decorated with bright shells and paintings. He was able to spy some of the merpeople peeking out at him through holes in the walls while he swam for the town square. Their eyes reminded Harry of strong yellow flashlights, shining dully into the gloom of the water as he made his way forward. Harry knew he had come to the right place when he spotted several dozen merpeople clustered around one another, each of them holding spears or other forms of primitive weaponry. Each of them had wild, dark green hair that seemed to float along with the ocean, their yellowing teeth seemingly leering at him as he made his way closer.  
  
Finally, he spotted his ultimate destination: a large stone statue of what appeared to be an old chief of the village. Four people were tied tightly to the tail of it with what appeared to be seaweed. 'I guess ropes don't fare too well underwater,' he thought. He recognized three of the hostages: Hermione, Cho Chang, and Katie Bell, a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The fourth prisoner looked to be very young and had pale-white skin and graceful silver hair that seemed to shine even in the dank atmosphere of the lake floor.  
  
'Must be Fleur's sister,' Harry said as he placed his webbed hands on the seaweed and tried to rip it apart. 'She certainly looks the part.'  
  
The weed was made of sterner stuff than Harry imagined, however, because no matter how much strength he put on, the bindings did not even seem to strain. Harry's eyes frantically searched around the town square for something sharp. He swam to the contingent of merpeople hoping that he could borrow a spear, but the sea creatures merely laughed and backed away.  
  
"We do not help," one of the mermen said roughly while his apparent mate pointed at Harry and laughed. "You must find your own means!"  
  
Other merpeople started to laugh at the look of frustration on Harry's face as he angrily turned away from them 'Something sharp, something sharp,' Harry murmured as he skimmed the ocean floor. Harry's eyes lit up when he saw a jagged rock near one of the houses surrounding the town square. He quickly swam his way over, gave a cheery wave to the merman who was watching him while inside the house, and rushed back to the stone statue.  
  
The work was both stressful and tedious, for Harry was afraid that the rock would break while he cut and also because he didn't know how much time he had left. He gazed into the closed eyes of his best friend, who was still fast asleep amidst all this mysterious chaos, her brown hair slumping down the front of Fluer's sister. With a determined two-handed slash, Hermione's bonds were finally cut and she began to float over the statue.  
  
Much of Harry wanted to grab Hermione and quickly zoom to the surface but the back of his mind got to thinking.  
  
'Where are the others?' he thought as the merpeople looked at him, confused by Harry's sudden hesitation. 'It took me quite a while to get down here and there isn't any sign of the others.' Harry turned his gaze back to Katie and Cho. He remembered the times when Katie would cheer him up when a Quidditch practice went bad. And Cho, she looked so graceful even in this bleak environment. His attraction to the pretty Ravenclaw had lessened out of respect for Cedric but she could still draw butterflies in his stomach even under these stressful circumstances. He didn't know Fluer's sister, but he was sure that she was the most precious thing to Fleur for a reason.  
  
'Can't leave 'em down here,' Harry thought resignedly as he picked up the jagged stone and began to hack away at the rest of the binds. Within moments, six mermen were upon him pulling him away from the other hostages. Some of them were still laughing at him.  
  
"You take your own hostage," a pink-haired mermaid spoke up, her tone firm and unyielding. "You must leave the others."  
  
"Forget it!" Harry said as he struggled impotently. "I won't let them die!"  
  
"You have completed your task, Mr. Potter," the mermaid announced. "Return to the surface and leave the others."  
  
"What if they don't show up!" Harry screamed. Some of the merpeople started gasping and pointing upwards.  
  
"One of them has already arrived." Harry's head was turned to see Cedric Diggory swimming towards the stone statue. An enormous bubble was around his head, making his normally fair face look extremely wide and distorted.  
  
'Must have used the Bubblehead charm,' Harry thought as he felt the grip of the mermen begin to loosen.  
  
A fairly alarming looking creature that caused many of the merpeople to shortly followed Cedric shrink away. It was a human body that, bizarrely enough, had the head of a shark. Harry recognized the swim trunks the strange hybrid wore as the same that Krum was wearing when the task began.  
  
'That's two out of three,' Harry said as the mermen finally released him while Cedric used a knife to sever the rest of Cho's bonds. 'But where's Fleur?'  
  
Krum had used the same jagged stone that Harry had used to free Hermione and was now swimming to the surface holding Katie to his waist as he swam with a speed that nearly matched Harry's.  
  
Once again, Harry had become the principal attraction of the merpeople as he waited for Fleur to show up. After another minute, Harry pointed his wand menacingly at the merpeople as he used his other hand to hack at the binds of Fleur's sister.  
  
"Stop him!" the mermaid screamed as another group of mermen charged after him. Time was beginning to run out as the mermen surrounded him and closed in. Somebody else was going to die because he wasn't strong enough! Harry just wouldn't have that!  
  
"I'm taking this girl with me!" Harry bellowed as he shot an enormous force bolt from his wand, driving the mermen back in fear. "The first one that gets in my way is going to regret it!" he warned, staring the merchieftaness in the eyes while he said it. He expected the tall and elegant leader to continue her assault, so he was quite surprised when what appeared to be a smile show up on her face as she ushered her soldiers back.  
  
"Hurry to the surface then, Mr. Potter," she said. "Dumbledore will hear about this." Heedless of the mermaid's warning, Harry quickly slashed the seaweed holding Fleur's sister and held the little girl to his waist. A brief bit of swimming allowed him to place Hermione in his right arm. Thus, with both hostages as safely secure as possible under the circumstances, Harry set his webbed feet to the ocean floor and pushed off with all the strength he could muster.  
  
With over two hundred pounds of deadweight now strapped to his shoulders, his legs were now begging for him to stop as he struggled slowly to the surface. The loss of blood from his fight with the grindylows was really beginning to take hold of him as a feeling of horrible weariness cascaded upon him with every kick of his feet. The water became brighter and brighter as sunlight began to filter its way through the water. Harry could feel his metatarsals shrink and the muscles around his shins give out as his feet and hands slowly returned to normal. Harry cursed as he realized that his hour of influence under gillyweed was about to end. The gills below his ears began to shrank and ultimately faded away as if they were never there, his lungs once again begging for oxygen as he continued to streak upward. He stole a glance at Hermione as he pushed to the surface, her closed eyes nearly giving a placid look on her features.  
  
'Some people have all the luck,' Harry thought darkly as his legs and arms seemed to scream at him.  
  
The cold air that slapped Harry in the face once he reached the surface was the closest thing to nirvana he had ever felt. The cold temperature of the water meant nothing to him as Harry began to pull Hermione and the little girl to the surface using nothing more than his own adrenaline. Nearly everyone in the crowd was on their feet making an incredible amount of noise. But, Harry was far more relieved when Hermione's chocolate-brown eyes snapped open and blinked rapidly to take in the scene.  
  
"Harry!" she gasped, her strained voice sounding like music to Harry's ears. "What is going on? Who is that girl?" she asked, staring at the confused form of the little girl tucked away in Harry's left arm.  
  
"Fleur's. . . sister. . ." he panted, as he labored his way across the water. "Had to help her!"  
  
"Let me have her," Hermione said as the gears began to turn in her brain. She slowly pried the little girl from Harry's arms. "Grab onto my shoulder, I'll get us to the shore!" she cried, her sharp mind now fully aware of what was going on. Harry continued to breathe in air like a dying man as Hermione slowly kicked her way to the shore. Madam Pomfrey was upon the three of them as soon as Hermione hit the surface, covering them with towels and nearly shoving them to a nearby tent.  
  
"Let's take care of those cuts, Potter!" Pomfrey said in her usual bossy tone. "I wish you'd take better care of yourself!"  
  
Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman were smiling broadly at Harry as he and Hermione made their way to the tent. Percy was clapping like a madman while Igor Karkaroff simply shrugged his shoulders and remained seated. Madame Maxine, meanwhile, was with Hagrid trying to calm a hysterical Fleur Delacour, who seemed to be fighting both of them in an effort to get to her sister.  
  
"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"  
  
"She's just fine!" Hermione shouted, her right arm supporting Harry as they both stumbled to the tent. That seemed to do little to alleviate Fleur's fears as she broke free from Maxine and Hagrid and hugged Gabrielle so fiercely that Gabrielle looked like she was about to choke.  
  
"I am fine. I am fine." The eight-year-old half-veela said quietly. Harry winced as he saw the many cuts and bruises on Fleur's face and arms. It appeared that he wasn't the only one that had run into grindylows on the way down.  
  
"Zey attacked me," Fleur said as tears streamed down her face, all the elegancy and posh behavior that Harry had associated with her forgotten. "Ze grindylows! I thought I would never see you again!"  
  
"Mrs. Delacour, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Granger, please come here now!" Pomfrey said, her firm voice not losing a bit of its edge. The four magicians soon hustled their way into the tent, where Madam Pomfrey wrapped them all in blankets and gave each of them a Pepperup potion to recover from the effects of the cold water. It took quite an effort on Pomfrey's part to assist Fleur, who was refusing help and insisted to give Gabrielle the utmost care before Pomfrey laid a finger on her.  
  
"Harry, you prat!" Hermione scolded him, although she had a huge smile on her face. "Why did you spend so much time in the town square! You could have been the first to finish!"  
  
"Someone had to rescue her," Harry said as he motioned his head toward Gabrielle, who gave Harry a flicker of a smile. "I didn't know if Fleur would make it or not!"  
  
"You saved 'er," Fleur said breathlessly, the beautiful glow starting to return to her graceful features. "You saved my sister!" The silver-haired half-veela rose to her feet and, taking Harry's flushed face in her hands, kissed Harry twice on each cheek.  
  
"Er. . ." mumbled Harry, as his face went beet-red. It was his first kiss from a girl and he had never thought he'd be receiving it from a beautiful woman three years older than he was. "It wasn't nothing," he said, scratching the back of his wild hair. Hermione somehow managed to hold in her laughter as Harry nearly shrunk to the size of a house-elf.  
  
"And you 'elped as well!" Fleur cried, her eyes now on Hermione. The brown-haired girl cocked her head a bit and gave a careless smile.  
  
"It was the least I could do," Hermione said simply. "You don't owe me anything." 'You already paid it,' Hermione thought bemusedly as she continued to look at Harry, who continued to sink into his chair and placed his towel over his head. Even Gabrielle began to laugh at Harry's behavior.  
  
'Serves me right for being selfless,' Harry thought darkly as he looked at the three women through the towel. Soon enough, Ron and Matt had raced into the tent, jubilant looks on their faces.  
  
"That's how you do it Harry!" Ron said, clapping Harry firmly on the shoulders.  
  
"Couldn't have done it better myself," Matt said, standing in the corner of the tent with his arms crossed. "Bagman's announcing the scores, so you and Fleur best get out here!"  
  
With an excited rush, Harry and the others were out of the tent and back near the coastline. They were met by Bagman's magically magnified voice announcing the results.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, the judges have reached their decision after a brief conference with Merchieftainess Murcus to review just what happened below the lake and we have decided to award the points for each of our champions as follows. . ."  
  
'Murcus?' Harry thought as he looked back at the lake, where Dumbledore was speaking with the pink- haired mermaid who had commanded Harry to leave the other hostages. Murcus apparently caught Harry's gaze and gave the young man a wink with her sharp green eyes.  
  
"First, Fleur Delaclour," Bagman continued. "Though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble- Head Charm, she was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal and failed to retrieve her hostage. She receives twenty-five points."  
  
There was very little cheering from the stands. Fleur was hardly the fan-favorite in this tournament, mostly due to her veela blood. Perhaps the person who applauded the loudest for her was Harry, who had gained a newfound respect for the Beauxbatons champion. Fleur gave a sad smile of thanks to Harry as she shook her magnificent head.  
  
"I don't think I deserve any at all," she said glumly as her little sister tried to cheer her up.  
  
"Second, to Cedric Diggory," Bagman went on as he gestured to the soaked Hufflepuff to his left, "who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage. We therefore award him forty- seven points."  
  
An enormous wave of cheers emerged from the grandstands, particularly from the Hufflepuff section, nearly all of who were leaping about and dancing like mental ward patients. Harry couldn't help but scowl as Cho gave Cedric an exceedingly glowing look. Hermione, seemingly reading Harry's thoughts, lightly tapped Harry's shoulder and gave him a grin.  
  
"Third, to Viktor Krum, who used a rather, er, interesting, form of Transfiguration." Much of the crowd seemed to laugh at Bagman's remark. It appeared that Viktor's choice for countering the water shocked the people in the grandstands as much as the merpeople. "However, despite the disagreements that many of the judges had with his technique, he was the second to return with his hostage. Therefore he receives forty points."  
  
The small contingent of Durmstrang students roared with applause as Viktor kept his trademark shy, brooding look. Katie, meanwhile, had wrapped her strong arms around Viktor's neck and kissed him full on the lips, which made much of the audience to erupt with cheers (although some of the ladies were a bit jealous). Harry could see Viktor's blush from twenty-five feet away.  
  
"Lastly, to Harry Potter," Bagman said as he gestured back to the tent where Harry was standing, "who used gillyweed to great effect, managed to deal with an enormous pack of grindylows before reaching the hostages. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftaness informed us that Mr. Potter was the first to reach the hostages and that his delay was due to his determination to return all the hostages to safety, not just his own."  
  
Ron gaped at Harry while Matt and Fleur gave him very approving looks. Hermione simply squeezed Harry's shoulders lightly, causing Harry to perk up and smile a bit.  
  
"Thus, for Mister Potter's moral fiber and bravery, we award Harry Potter forty-eight points."  
  
Harry had no time to react as Ron and Matt nearly ran him over while Hermione seemed to nearly crush him with her embrace. The Gryffindor grand stands were now making enough noise to wake the dead. Not even the extensive boos of the Slytherins could drown out the racket. While Harry struggled to tell his friends to stop congratulating him, Fleur and Gabrielle also were applauding furiously.  
  
"You've won the first two events, Harry!" Hermione shouted as she released her embrace. "You've just got one more to go!"  
  
"The third and final task will take place on the morning of June 24th," continued Bagman. "Each champion will be notified of what is coming one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of our Triwizard champions!"  
  
The celebration in the Gryffindor common room lasted well into the night. Katie had somehow managed to drag Viktor Krum into the proceedings, where he was constantly being commended for his, as Dean Thomas so eloquently put it, "killer shark trick". Meanwhile, the Weasley brothers spent much of the day either gathering food from the house-elf kitchens or causing as much trouble around the Hogwarts grounds as humanly possible, so much so that Professor McGonagall had threatened them to turn them into mice if they tried anything else.  
  
"You will return Malfoy's broom at once," Professor McGonagall shrilled as she continued to chase the siblings about the halls.  
  
"Come on, grandma!" Ron said merrily as he rushed back to the Gryffindor common room after sneaking into the Slytherin common room and causing a rather great deal of havoc.  
  
"Yeah! You should go and rest your varicose veins!" George snorted derisively.  
  
"Fifty points off of Gryffindor! And a week's detention for all of you!" McGonagall screamed as she tried desperately to keep up with the troublemaking siblings.  
  
"Oh, dear!" Fred said as he ran alongside his twin brother. "I guess you all know what this means!"  
  
"Yep," Ron said as he stopped running. "Looks like Slytherin will finally have a chance to win the House Cup."  
  
The trio of redheads were all howling with laughter as Professor McGonagall caught up with them and nearly dragged them to her office.  
  
The last remains of the winter winds that crashed down upon the top of the Astronomy Tower soothed Harry as he wrapped his father's invisibility cloak around his shoulders. The visions that flooded his mind during his fight with the grindylows troubled him far more than anything Mother Nature could possibly throw at him. He wanted to talk to anyone about what happened down there: Dumbledore, Moody, Professor McGonagall. Hell, he'd settle for Snape, he wasn't that picky! But he was the golden boy, the boy of destiny, The Boy Who Lived. He was supposed to be above such petty concerns and problems. He was the hero of the wizarding world, after all. The revered looks that witches and wizards gave him now frightened him just as much as Voldemort himself. What did he ever do to earn such a high acclaim! Why did he have so much money loaded in Gringotts to his name while other wizards were starving and broken? Why does he get one of the finest racing brooms in the world while so many other deserving people must struggle for everything they receive?  
  
In short, what made him so fucking special?  
  
"You can call me strange if you like, but I do believe that the source of the celebration should at least remain at the celebration itself. It makes things far simpler for the rest of us."  
  
Harry whirled around to see Hermione standing at the base of the stairs, her usual sardonic grin seemingly framed on her face.  
  
"How did you get up here without someone spotting you?" Harry asked softly. Hermione didn't respond immediately as she slowly walked towards the precipice of the roof and looked down at the Forbidden Forest below.  
  
"There is one advantage to the Weasleys causing so much unnecessary trouble," she responded as she sat down next to Harry, her somewhat scrawny legs dangling over the edge. "Filch and McGonagall are too busy watching them to pay attention to anyone else." Harry just gave a brooding laugh and looked up at the half-moon.  
  
"So," Hermione started as she cupped her knees with her small hands, "why are you brooding up here in this cold February night?"  
  
Harry sighed heavily while Hermione waited patiently for her friend's response. She knew this routine all too well. "When I was fighting the grindylows in the water," Harry said, his eyes still locked on the half-moon. "I started to visualize about everything that's happened. When I found out about Quirrel. My fight against the basilisk. The day I found out Sirius was innocent. The day when my mother and father. . ."  
  
"The night they fought Voldemort," Hermione continued. It was the first time Hermione had ever said the vile wizard's name, but neither Harry or Hermione really noticed it.  
  
"I did something frightening to those grindylows, Hermione," Harry went on shakily. "I killed them all without a second thought. I've always been told that I have some kind of special power, but that was really the first time I truly saw it. I saw my gifts for what they truly were. Nothing more than just simple instruments of destruction, of hatred, of death."  
  
"They would have killed you if you hadn't Harry." Hermione said slowly.  
  
"BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT RIGHT!" Harry screamed as he stood up with a jerk and fired a Forcis hex into the night sky. "Ever since I was a year old I have been surrounded by death and suffering! My mother, my father, Remus, Sirius, so many people have been harmed or had their lives ruined simply because they knew who I was! I don't even know the number of Aurors died so that I could be kept safe while I was at the Dursleys!" Tears started to roll down Harry's cheeks as the invisibility cloak fell to his feet.  
  
"And what about you? You nearly died on New Years Eve simply because you knew me! What's going to happen if or when Voldemort comes back to power! Everything and everyone that knows me is in danger and I don't know if I have the strength to protect them all! So many more will die simply because I remain alive!" Harry fell to his knees as his glasses fell of his nose and silently shattered on the stone.  
  
Hermione didn't say a word as she hefted herself up from the precipice and sank to her knees to join Harry. She picked up the broken remnants of Harry's spectacles and quietly used a Repario charm to fix them. She used her right hand to gently tilt Harry's downcast face and slid the glasses across his nose.  
  
"Harry," she began. "We are all aware of the risks that we took when we called you a friend. Ron, Sirius, Matt, Remus, even Dumbledore knows that we will become targets simply because we stand by your side. We're not innocent bystanders who you have to keep a watch over, we're people that have just joined you in the same boat. Nobody should have to handle the burden you bear alone."  
  
Harry sniffed quietly as he used his right hand to wipe away some of the tears from his emerald-green eyes.  
  
"Your father and your mother sacrificed their lives because they hoped that you would make them proud. I don't think they would approve of you very much if you gave up now. You should feel guilty for what has happened before, you must never let that guilt go no matter how much it hurts you! You have to use the hope and faith that people have placed in you and use it as your inspiration. Just remember that we all befriended you because we wanted to be by your side and help you face your troubles, not to get in your way."  
  
Harry swallowed thickly as a final tear slid down his face and crashed onto the stone floor.  
  
"Thank you, Hermione," he croaked. Hermione's compassionate countenance was once again replaced by her familiar wry grin.  
  
"Just leave it to your big sister Hermione to cheer you up when you're down!" she said as she wrapped her arm around Harry's shoulders. Even Harry couldn't fight off a little laugh.  
  
"Big sister, huh? I thought I was older than you are?"  
  
"Then you should stop moaning and bitching and acting like a little brother!" Hermione said perkily. The two Gryffindors both laughed as the bright light of the winter moon shined on them. Harry's eyes slowly turned to meet Hermione's. Silence seemed to reign along Hogwarts as Harry and Hermione gazed into one another's eyes.  
  
"All joking aside," Hermione said, her voice suddenly very strained. "I just want you to, um, remember, that I'll always be by your side."  
  
"Always?" asked Harry, his face moving closer and closer to Hermione.  
  
"Always," said Hermione, their lips now inches apart.  
  
"So here you guys are!" Matt bellowed as he hopped up the stairs. Harry and Hermione's heads both lurched backward so quickly that their necks may have been broken. "I've been looking all over for you guys!" Matt seemed quite unaware of what was about to take place before he head shown up.  
  
"Something wrong Matt?" Hermione asked softly as she hastily ran her left hand through her chestnut- brown hair.  
  
"Naw," Matt said, as he seemingly skipped over to the Gryffindors and plopped down beside them. "I was just gonna check on Harry to see if he was all right. You didn't look too good when you left the party." His voice was flat and serious as he said this.  
  
"I'm okay." Harry said softly. Matt looked from Harry to Hermione as if to confirm it.  
  
"Good," Matt said as his left hand ruffled Harry's already messy-black hair. "If anybody is going to cause you trouble, Harry Potter, I want to make damn sure it's going to be me!"  
  
"It's nice to see you've finally found a goal in your otherwise abysmal life, Matt McGonagall," Hermione said shrewdly.  
  
"With all due respect, Hermione Granger," Matt said simply. "Why don't you take your cheery little comments and stuff them back in that horrendously disgusting hair where it belongs." Harry smiled broadly at his two quarreling compatriots as Matt performed a nifty kip-up and looked off the edge of the roof.  
  
"It's such a lovely night," Matt said, as he peered down to look at Hagrid's hut. "Why don't we spar up here tonight?"  
  
"Why on earth would you want to spar on top of the Astronomy tower?" Hermione asked incredulously as she stood up to join Matt.  
  
"The same reason I wanted to steal gillyweed from Snape's storeroom," Matt said with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"Because you've never done it before," Harry and Hermione answered simultaneously.  
  
"It's nice to see the two of you are learning, my grasshoppers," Matt said as he gave his two friends a mock bow. Harry and Hermione, to their credit, returned the gesture with equal sincerity.  
  
"Fine then," Hermione sighed, not even bothering to reason with Matt. "I'll spar up here tonight on one condition."  
  
"And what would that be, Hermione?" Matt asked.  
  
"I want a piece of you first," Hermione said simply as she readied herself. "I want to use my best moves on you before I move onto Harry."  
  
"Why, Hermione?" Matt said saucily as he adopted the same stance as Hermione. "I never knew you had feelings for me! You're such a flirt!"  
  
Steam was nearly pouring from Hermione's ears after that. "Once I break all of your bones I'm going to throw you off this tower, Matt McGonagall!"  
  
"Bring it on, General Big Brain!" Matt yipped fearlessly as Harry shook his head and took a seat to await his turn.  
  
So, for the next three hours, the three friends trained for the challenges ahead of them, washing their troubles away with every punch, chop, and kick. A pair of unseen eyes looked upon them as the three students chatted and laughed as they prepared themselves for another day.  
  
Of course, just whose eyes were upon them is a secret that would wait for another time.  
  
(Breathes a huge sigh of relief) Good Lord! This is the longest chapter yet! When I started this thing I was expecting a novella of about 45,000 words, maybe as much as 75,000 if I really worked on it. Now I'm just past the halfway point and I'm already at the 65,000 mark! Either I'm a better writer than I thought or I just don't know how to say what I want to say correctly (I don't know about you but I'm looking at the latter possibility)! Well, let's move on the next chapter preview!  
  
Spring has arrived at Hogwarts and everything is as peaceful as can be. This only means trouble up ahead for Harry, Hermione, and Matt, as they discover a body in the Forbidden Forest. Sirius thinks there's a traitor at Hogwarts and our heroes are clutching at straws as to where to look! Will our heroes succeed before disaster strikes again? Find out about all this and more as Sirius makes his first appearance (that should make you rabid Sirius fans happy!) in the next installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery: Walking Dangerous Lines. See you soon! 


	9. Walking Dangerous Lines

(Stretching his arms and legs before getting ready to type) Ah! Nothing like a little flexing of the muscles and bones to get your personal muse up and ready to roll. With any luck, I can keep this chapter under 10,000 words (although judging from my two previous chapters, that possibility is becoming less and less likely). Be that as it may, welcome to Chapter 9 of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery. Young women in the throws of pubescent behavior should be excited about this chapter because Sirius is making his first appearance. I don't understand what women see in Sirius Black. Maybe I'm just jealous of all the attention a fictional character receives. Sad, but most likely true.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter, I don't Hermione Granger, I don't own Peter Pettigrew, I don't own Macnair, hell, I don't own anybody! Depressing, but again, true.  
  
Chapter Nine- Walking Dangerous Lines  
  
After the end of the second task, Harry was expecting a bit of a break from the negative limelight that had surrounded him since the start of the Triwizard Tournament. After all, he tied with Viktor Krum in the first task and was on the top of the leader board going into the third and final test. He had proven that he was a more than worthy contender for the Triwizard cup, even if he didn't willingly enter himself in the contest. Yep, Harry would be the toast of the school for the rest of the term, no doubt about it.  
  
"If it isn't Potty and his little scraggly-haired girlfriend!"  
  
"I can't wait to see you crash and burn in the third task, Potter!"  
  
"When is the wedding date set? I'll make sure to buy a present!"  
  
Harry definitely should have known better.  
  
"Why don't you shove off Malfoy before I use that pile of straw on your head for a paintbrush," Matt scoffed as he walked alongside Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Don't be upset, Matt," Malfoy said slyly. "I'm just responding to the things I see! There's no need to get angry about it."  
  
Draco Malfoy was having the time of his life ever since Harry and rescued Hermione and Gabrielle Delacour from the bottom of the lake. After all, the job of the second task was to rescue the thing that you would miss the most, and that thing for Harry certainly wasn't Gabrielle! Along with Hermione being Harry's company for The Yule Ball and now nearly everyone assumed that the he and Hermione were now an item, a concept that provided a limitless number of snide remarks and jokes for the fair-haired Slytherin.  
  
Matters only became worse when Rita Skeeter made her report about the second task, which focused almost entirely on Harry's "gallant" rescue of Hermione Granger, whom she called "the keeper of Harry's heart". Viktor earned his fair share of attention with his transfiguration efforts while Cedric was hardly even mentioned, which caused many of the Hufflepuffs to either shy away from him or just be rude altogether.  
  
"Would you like me to be your best man, Potter?" Malfoy said as a group of Slytherins hung on his every word. "That way you can save yourself some money by not hiring someone to stand next to you during the ceremony!"  
  
Even the normally calm and collected Harry was ready to attack Malfoy after one week of similar "conversations" with the Slytherin seeker, but Hermione and Matt were somehow able to keep him calm.  
  
"Just ignore them, Harry," Hermione shrewdly whispered as she gave a glare to Pansy Parkinson that could freeze molten lava. "Now's not the time to stoop to their level."  
  
"Besides," Matt said as the three students walked by the flock of Slytherins, "we can always set fire to Malfoy anytime we want to." Harry laughed at that.  
  
"That's hardly the kind of payback I had in mind," Hermione said flatly.  
  
However, the one resident of Hogwarts who reveled in the recent events the most was none other than Severus Snape. The Slytherin headmaster seemed to make it a daily routine to point out Harry and Hermione's "affections" for one another, even taking time out of his lessons one day to read the Rita Skeeter article out loud to the class, much to the joy of the Slytherins. He also made certain that the two friends were no longer allowed to work on their assignments together.  
  
"There are already too many caustic things bubbling about in my classroom," Snape said as he nearly shoved Harry across the classroom over to Neville Longbottom's table. "The last thing I need is prepubescent affection mixed in with it." Neville, to his credit, tried his hardest to hide under his table to avoid Snape's acrid tongue. Like Harry, the clumsy Gryffindor was a frequent target of Snape's verbal lashings.  
  
Harry spent the rest of the class mashing and cutting his potions ingredients with furious anger, pretending that each scarab beetle and root of garlic was the potions master himself. The black-haired Gryffindor was searching through every fiber of his mind to remember how he produced that electric field that he had used on the grindylows. He would have liked seeing the look on Snape's face as several thousand volts of electricity plunged into his body.  
  
Harry's rather dark thoughts were interrupted by a panicky shriek from Neville as his Wit-Sharpening Potion began to boil over the tip of his cauldron and spill out onto the floor.  
  
'Maybe now's not the time for something like this,' Harry thought sourly as he used his wand to control the bubbling cauldron while trying to guess how many points Snape would take off for this one.  
  
"Don't you think you're being a little hard on Harry, Professor Snape?" Matt asked as he scooped up the ashes of a recently burned branch of an oak tree and threw it into his cauldron.  
  
"Can you give me a reason why I shouldn't be, Mr. McGonagall?" Snape asked coldly while his night- black eyes bored into him. "He's a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."  
  
"And you're a codgery old professor who insults his students so he can ignore his life's failures and provide catharsis for an abysmal repentance," Matt said as the contents of his cauldron turned almost milky white. Snape stopped his work to stare at the sharp-tongued Ravenclaw for a moment before responding. Finally, the potions master shrugged his shoulders and continued to work.  
  
"We all have our roles," the sallow-faced man said. There was a brief bit of silence in the potions dungeon before Snape continued. "So, is the rumor true?"  
  
Now it was Matt's turn to cease his potions making and look annoyed. "What rumor?"  
  
"Potter and Granger, of course. I hope that the time that you've been spending with them hasn't dulled your already abysmal intelligence."  
  
"They're just friends, Professor," Matt answered sharply as he went to work cutting a dragon's liver. "Besides, why on earth should I tell you if they were romantically involved? You'd have a field day with it!"  
  
"Why do you think I asked, Mister McGonagall," Snape said with a smirk as he calmly stirred the contents within his own cauldron. Matt sighed in frustration as he prepared several large bottles and began to distribute a sizable portion of the now-completely clear potion into each.  
  
"Is there a reason that we're making Veritaserum?" Matt asked as he held up one of the bottles to the light of one of the torches.  
  
"Allow me to remind you that this is your detention assignment," Snape said coldly as he too began to distribute the potion evenly. "You are not here to ask questions about what you are doing, you are simply here to do what I command of you."  
  
Someone had managed to sneak a Dungbomb into Ernie McMillan's cauldron during a previous potions class, causing much of the class to run away screaming as the walls were covered with a gooey, orange substance that was supposed to create afterimages of the person who drinks it. Since neither of the Weasley twins were present during the chaotic proceedings, Snape had assumed that Matt had performed the mischievous deed through the simple matter of process of elimination. He had received three days of detention from Professor Flitwick and Snape was more than happy to allow him to serve his sentence making potions. After all, Snape was still trying to pay for the damages that had occurred to his possessions on New Years Eve and he could use the extra money he got from the potions that he and Matt made during the evenings.  
  
"As if you have any right to know," Snape said as he topped each of the beakers of Veritaserum with a solid-black stopper. "The Defense Ministry is seeking Death Eaters once again concerning the incidents at the Quidditch World Cup and they need these potions for interrogations. Perhaps I can use one of these on Mister Potter, perhaps. Could draw up a veritable mountain of interesting information, don't you think?"  
  
Matt couldn't help but pale at the idea, not to mention the almost sinister grin that Snape had on his face as he suggested it. Indeed, he was certain that the Ministry would be quite happy to learn about many of the secrets that were stored in Harry's head. The theft of gillyweed was a good one, as was his role in freeing Buckbeak just moments before his execution. Of course, the biggest one would be the whereabouts of Harry's godfather, whom was still being hunted by the Aurors. He suspected that the potions master was bluffing, but you could never really tell with Snape. Instead of outrage, Matt decided to stick with sarcasm.  
  
"They're trusting a former Death Eater to catch other Death Eaters?" Matt said as he raised an eyebrow in interest.  
  
"It appears that it is the only way that those idiotic, ineffectual Aurors can ever do anything right," Snape said irritably. Matt was about to comment on that but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down to the dungeons. Snape grimaced in frustration as he recognized the boots that made the click-clack noise on the stone steps as well as the boots' owner.  
  
'Speak of the devil,' Snape thought as Igor Karkaroff entered the dungeon. The headmaster of Durmstrang was looking paler even for him. Beads of nervous sweat were trickling down his brow. In his six months at Hogwarts, Karkaroff had made a considerable number of enemies and critics due to his policies towards the Dark Arts and foreign relations. He didn't even notice Matt as Karkaroff made his way straight to the Potions Master.  
  
"Something I can help you with Igor," Snape said, his infamous icy tone all too prevalent in his voice.  
  
"Why have you been ignoring me, Severus?" Karkaroff said almost frantically. "I really need to talk to you about this!"  
  
"And just what could be so urgent that it couldn't wait until the morning?" Snape hissed softly, causing Karkaroff to nearly slink away from him. "I've finished my dealings here and I would like to rest. Unlike you, I have responsibilities to keep."  
  
"Don't give me that!" Karkaroff shouted with what Matt assumed he thought was angry defiance. It sounded more like the plea of a scolded dog to him, however. "You know very well what I'm talking about!" Karkaroff said as he pulled up the left-hand sleeve of his robe. "This!"  
  
Matt didn't need to see Karkaroff's arms to know what was on there. It was the Dark Mark, the sign of Voldemort himself. He had seen the same mark on Snape's left forearm and knew more about the significance of the marking than either Harry or Hermione.  
  
'So he is a Death Eater!' Matt thought as his eyes widened a bit in surprise. 'Learn something new every day around here!' Karkaroff was continuing to fluster and bumble his words as Snape looked at the mark impassively.  
  
"The mark is nearly glowing, Severus!" Karkaroff said as he shook the pale skin at Snape. "It hasn't been this clear since. . ."  
  
"Since when, Professor Karkaroff?" Matt asked cheekily as he planted his feet on a desk and crossed his legs. Karkaroff was nearly white as a sheet as he stared at the smiling Ravenclaw, who gave him a polite wave as an added bonus.  
  
"Severus," Karkaroff faltered as his eyes whirled back and forth from Snape to Matt. "Why didn't you tell me you had company!"  
  
"Did you have your peripheral vision removed as a child or are you just an unbelievable fool?" Snape said evenly with his arms crossed. The Durmstrang headmaster couldn't even manage an answer as he stared straight into Matt's glowing smile.  
  
"Perhaps you would like to meet at a later time to discuss these manners, Igor?" Snape asked him, speaking as though he were addressing a child. Karkaroff hastily bundled up his cloak and began to walk slowly out of the room muttering in what Matt assumed to be in an affirmative manner. It took quite a bit of inner strength to prevent him from laughing out loud as Karkaroff tripped over the first step and nearly fell flat on his face. Matt finally spoke a good thirty seconds after Karkaroff took his first step out of the dungeon.  
  
"They'll give anyone a headmaster position these days, won't they?"  
  
"Apparently," Snape mumbled as he started to clean up his cauldron. "Your business here is concluded, Matt. You may return to your dormitory."  
  
"Any chance I can ask you why Karkaroff would want to speak to you about the Dark Mark, Professor?"  
  
"Leave, Mister McGonagall."  
  
"It was worth a shot," Matt said cheerfully as he dashed up the steps and made his way to the owlery. He had said he would go down to see if Sirius had left a letter for them concerning the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. He was stopped by Mrs. Norris, whom he bent down to pet for a bit before continuing his business on the castle grounds.  
  
The owlery was always quite a lively place at midnight, as over two hundred of the nocturnal flyers zoomed about in the expansive space that was given to them. Tawnys and barn owls all hooted and pecked away at their daily food rations while Matt walked to one side of the far side of the owlery to check the incoming letters. He was met at the depository by a familiar snowy-white owl that hooted brightly and gave an affectionate nip to the young man's finger.  
  
"Nice to see you too, Hedwig," Matt said as he handed Harry's elegant owl a piece of bread and smoothed over the bird's back feathers with a swipe of his spare hand. After a brief bit of searching, Matt did indeed find a letter for Harry, a wrinkled brown envelope with no writing upon it except for Harry's name. Matt used his left hand to tear open the envelope and pull out an equally scraggy piece of paper. A large coffee stain dominated the upper-left side of the document and the handwriting upon it looked to have been written on the ground.  
  
"Meet me at the end of High Street, past Dervish and Banges at 12:30 on Saturday," the note read. "Please bring food. Signed, Snuffles."  
  
Hedwig was holding her hind leg out expecting to be sending a letter out. 'Poor thing,' Matt said as he could see the look of anticipation in the owl's eyes. 'I wouldn't like to be cooped up in here either.'  
  
"Sorry, pal," Matt said he continued to stroke Hedwig's hind feathers. "I don't have any letters for you to send out, but I can give you another slice of bread to share with your buddies. How does that sound?"  
  
Hedwig looked clearly disappointed at the lack of action she's had since the first task. Harry didn't want to use her out of the risk that she would draw attention. Matt resolved that he would give her some jobs to do as she took the bread in her beak and fluttered back up to the top of the barn. Once Hedwig was out of sight, Matt looked back at the letter with a huge grin on his face.  
  
"I'm finally going to meet Padfoot," he said to the owls.  
  
The owls didn't bother to reply.  
  
"I'm gonna meet Padfoot! I'm gonna meet Padfoot! I'm gonna meet Padfoot!" Matt said as he skipped down the streets of Hogsmeade alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Spring was finally starting to emerge in the wizarding tourist trap and the slightest bits of green could be seen peeking through the last of the winter snow. Although the Ravenclaw was carrying a bag that had several whole chickens, numerous loafs of bread, and two flasks of pumpkin juice, the physical burden didn't seem to bring him down in the slightest.  
  
"Try not to make too much of a fool of yourself, Matt." Hermione commented, a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet wound tightly in her hands.  
  
"I still don't know why Snuffles is taking such a big risk," Harry said frustrated, making sure to use his godfather's pseudonym else someone heard him. "I don't know what I'd do if he got caught!"  
  
"Don't worry about it, Harry!" Ron said as he stretched his lanky arms. "It's not like dementors are crawling around Hogsmeade anymore. He's as safe as he could be."  
  
"I've been trying to beat your godfather's record for most detentions for years now, Harry!" Matt said, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. "Thanks for letting me come along! This is going to be so cool!"  
  
"Don't mention it, Matt," Harry said as he shook his head at Matt's childlike exuberance. Truth be told, he was quite anxious to see his godfather as well and it was all he could do to start jumping up and down and cavorting about like his brown-haired friend.  
  
It didn't take long for the four students to pass by the Hogsmeade border and make their way to the edge of the rocky hills and mountains that encircled the wizard village. They ultimately came to a stop at the foot of a tall, oak tree where a large, hirsute black dog was resting under the shade. Wagging its tail, the dog stood up on its four legs and seemed to smile at Harry as it scooped up a newspaper with his mouth and trotted forward.  
  
"Hello, Sirius," Harry said with a broad grin.  
  
The dog was too busy staring at Matt to respond to his godson's greeting. He was looking at the unfamiliar face with quite a deal of suspicion.  
  
"This is Matt McGonagall," Hermione said, seemingly reading the look in the dog's eyes. "Don't worry, Sirius. You can trust him."  
  
The dog, seemingly quite relieved by Hermione's assurances, sniffed Matt's bag eagerly, its tail wagging like an out-of-control metronome. Matt chuckled as he eagerly scratched the top of the dog's head, which the creature took quite a liking to before turning away and jogged off into the mountains.  
  
"I think she's trying to tell us something, momma!" Matt said, no longer being able to resist the joke. "She wants us to follow her!"  
  
"Shut up, Timmy." Hermione said flatly as she began to stalk up the mountain with Harry and Ron right on her heels.  
  
It took a half-hour of solid walking to reach Sirius' hideout a hundred feet above the mountain. Harry, Matt, and Hermione, due to their recent physical training, was able to handle the steep and winding pass quite easily while Ron seemed to be entirely out of the breath for the last fifteen minutes of the trek.  
  
"Wouldn't it have been simpler to just talk under the tree?" Ron asked as he held onto a large boulder while he caught his breath once again.  
  
"No pain, no gain," Matt said simply, wincing in pain as the heavy straps of his knap sack cut into his shoulders. "Get moving, Weasley."  
  
They finally reached a narrow fissure at the top of the mountain path that looked to have been expanded a bit recently. The black dog beckoned them inside with a loud bark and the four magicians soon managed to squeeze into the crevice. The arrival of the sun didn't seem to have effect on the cave's atmosphere, a cool breeze was blowing through every slight crack and cranny in the rocks. A rather large horse-like creature was tied to a rock at the back end of the cave, calmly beating its wings.  
  
"Harry! Take a look!" Matt said as he tapped Harry on the shoulder excitedly. "Isn't that Buckbeak?"  
  
The half gray horse, half giant eagle stared at the students with a look of familiarity in its fiercely bright orange eyes. Buckbeak was a hippogriff that Matt and the others met at the beginning of third year. Matt, being a lover of animals, took to the majestic creatures immediately and was quite angry when he found out that Buckbeak was to be executed for injuring Draco Malfoy. He was overjoyed when he read that the creature had escaped from its' own execution but was also wondering where the hippogriff had run off to. He was happy he found his answer as he gave a polite bow to the massive creature before rushing over to stroke its' feathery neck and back. Buckbeak, happy to see another familiar face, cawed happily at Matt's ministrations.  
  
The noise the hippogriff was making completely covered the small pop as the large, shaggy dog disappeared from sight and a grizzled, middle-aged man in tattered gray robes appeared. The man's long black hair was equally untidy and looked like it hadn't been washed or cared for in weeks. The man's beard was hardly as expansive or messy as Hagrid's, but it was impressive nonetheless. Upon seeing him, Matt let go of Buckbeak for a moment and unzipped his knapsack to hand the man once of the chickens.  
  
"Chicken!" Sirius said hoarsely as he dashed at the fine smelling food like a wild man. After ripping off a sizeable leg off the whole chicken, Sirius sat down Indian style and began to gnaw away.  
  
"Been waiting for this for a week now," Sirius said with a grin he went about his work. "I can't steal too much food in Hogsmeade lest someone notices me." Matt was a bit taken back by the man's behavior, hardly expecting the sight of a frazzled middle-aged man wolfing down food like an animal.  
  
"It's an, um, honor to meet you, sir." Matt said softly, his head slightly bowed. Sirius stared at the young man a little bit and smiled brightly.  
  
"So you're Minerva's grandson," Sirius said brightly. "You've grown up quite a bit, young man."  
  
Matt's eyes were wide. "You've met me before?"  
  
"Nothing big," Sirius responded, shrugging his shoulders as he tossed a chicken bone to Buckbeak, who began to crunch it violently with its sharp jaws. "I was at your first birthday party. You somehow managed to dump your birthday cake on your grandmother's head. You should have seen the look on her face."  
  
"Wonderful," Matt said blushing while Ron and Hermione sniggered. Sirius merely patted Matt's shoulders as he stood up, grabbing a slice of bread from the knapsack.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Sirius said. "From what I've read from Harry's letters, I owe you quite a bit for watching over my godson. Your parents would be quite proud of you."  
  
Matt's hazel eyes flashed briefly. "Thank you very much, Mister Black."  
  
Sirius gave the Ravenclaw a reassuring grin as he turned back to his godson. The grin on Black's face was tremendous in its enthusiasm.  
  
"Why are you here, Sirius?" Harry said, trying his hardest to keep the concern and emotion out of his voice.  
  
"Just fulfilling my duties as your godfather," he responded evenly, quite disappointed that Harry seemingly wasn't happy to see him. "After the entire goblet fiasco, I want to make certain I'm on the spot in case you're in danger. Looks like I'm not the only one that's concerned judging from what I've been reading."  
  
Matt and Ron both walked over to a pile of yellowing newspapers, unfolding several of them and scanning them briefly.  
  
"And what happens if you're caught?"  
  
"This is the first time I've been out of my Animagus form in a week, Harry," Sirius said simply. "The only people that knows that I'm an Animagus are Dumbledore, Remus, and the four people in this cave."  
  
"And Peter," Harry added softly. Sirius sighed deeply, slowly running his hands through his unkempt hair before responding.  
  
"Dumbledore told me about the whole Macnair fiasco," Sirius said soberly as he walked up to Harry. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you." The worry in his godfather's eyes seemed to break down every barrier of strength that Harry had built up since the day Sirius rode off with Buckbeak at the end of Harry's third year.  
  
"I'm all right," Harry said, nearly breaking into tears as his godfather embraced him, the entire stress of the second task once again flooding out.  
  
"Would you mind telling me about it? Dumbledore was a little too careful in abstaining from details."  
  
So Matt, the only one fully conscious throughout the entire ordeal, went into the events that occurred that New Years eve night. Everything from sneaking down to the dungeons to Macnair's arrival to Hermione and Peter's timely rescues. He spent a particular amount of detail in covering what Peter had said and done while Sirius nodded darkly with each sentence.  
  
"You kids fought very well," Sirius said as he nodded in appreciation. "In case you didn't know, Macnair was Voldemort's captain of the guards back during his reign. He killed more Aurors than the rest of the Death Eaters put together. Frighteningly powerful. Probably explains why he was never charged with being a Death Eater, nobody was foolish enough to try and send him to Azkaban."  
  
"You're telling me," Hermione said as she rubbed a sore rib that she had received when Macnair tried to choke the life out of her.  
  
"Looks like that didn't stop you from going toe-to-toe with him, did it Hermione?" Sirius said with a charming grin, causing Hermione to turn away and mumble a bit.  
  
"I'm still wondering why Peter would save you all, however," Sirius said as he took a seat on a smooth boulder, holding a half-eaten chicken breast in his left hand.  
  
"He told us that we still had a greater role to play," Hermione spoke up. "He told Matt and I that we would have to be there to protect Harry when Voldemort is revived."  
  
Ron seemed to cringe at hearing the dark wizard's name while Sirius looked up surprisingly at the girl. It took quite a bit of courage for a wizard, let alone a Muggle-born, to utter Riddle's name.  
  
"I wish I knew what that rat was up to," Sirius said with his arms crossed. "He might have been trying to repay his wizard debt to you, Harry."  
  
"That wouldn't be right," Matt said looking up from his paper. "Macnair wasn't after Harry. He was after Hermione and me."  
  
"He said I was to stay alive so that I had to play my part in Voldemort's revival," Harry said darkly, suppressing a shiver at the memory. "Does Peter really have the power to revive Voldemort, Sirius?"  
  
"What concerns me is that he hasn't done it already," Sirius responded, angrily throwing another chicken bone over to Buckbeak. "Heaven knows that he could pull something like that off. Chubby little geek has been three steps ahead of me ever since I escaped from Azkaban."  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Sirius," Hermione said as she moved towards Buckbeak. "From what I've heard, he's been making fools out of the Ministry for months now."  
  
"Peter could always do that," Sirius said after taking a huge bite out of his loaf of bread. "He was never the best wizard in the world. The Slytherins tended to pick on him quite a bit when James wasn't around. He grew up quick, though. By our last year, he was making marks that were on par with Lily. James had even offered to help make Peter Head Boy but Peter thought your father would be much better suited. He could be downright frightening if someone pushed him the wrong way."  
  
"Do you think he could have been with Voldemort back then?" Harry asked.  
  
"Doubtful," Sirius responded quickly. "There wasn't any real reason to have a spy in our ranks back then. We were just five ordinary Gryffindors back then. A bit troublesome," Sirius said with his old Marauders grin, "but nothing out of the ordinary."  
  
"Sheesh. They make it sound like he's dying," Ron said as he continued to leaf through one of the newer newspapers.  
  
"Who's dying?" Matt asked.  
  
"Crouch," Sirius answered. "He was admitted to St. Mungo's last week. The Ministry has been trying to keep it hushed up but it didn't seem to stop Rita Skeeter from writing about it. Your brother claimed it was from a nervous breakdown from overworking," he said pointing to Ron.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said as he folded up the paper.  
  
"He wasn't at the second task, either," Matt added, leaning back against the cave's walls. "Seems awfully odd for somebody like Crouch to not attend something like that!"  
  
"Maybe he's getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky!" Hermione scoffed as she continued to stroke Buckbeak. "Serves him right after the way he treated her!"  
  
"Pardon?" Matt asked as he and Sirius stared at Hermione in confusion.  
  
"Don't worry about her, Sirius," Ron said simply. "Hermione's been obsessed with house elves since the start of the term. She bloody near talks our ears off about them." Hermione gave the redhead her traditional angry glare.  
  
"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" Sirius asked.  
  
"It was at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry, as he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, Winky being spotted in the forest holding Harry's wand by the Aurors, and Crouch's furious dismissal of her.  
  
"So Crouch didn't turn up for the match even after his elf saved a seat for him?" Matt said puzzled.  
  
"That isn't like Crouch at all," Sirius said as he paced the room. "Did you check your pockets for your wand after the match, Harry?"  
  
"Not once," Harry said in a rather disappointed tone. It still seemed to sting him that it was his wand that conjured the Dark Mark that day and that his irresponsibility allowed it to happen. "I know I had it with me when I entered the Top Box however."  
  
"So we can only assume that whoever used the Morsmordre spell was in the Top Box with us." Hermione concluded before narrowing her eyes. "But Winky did not steal Harry's wand!"  
  
"I never said she did, Hermione," Sirius said as he put the finishing touches on his third chicken leg. "Who else was in the top box?"  
  
"Quite a few people," Harry said, ticking off his fingers as he went along. "Some of the chief Bulgarian foreign ministers, Cornelius Fudge, the Malfoys!"  
  
"The Malfoys!" Ron cried as he leapt to his feet excitedly. "They had to have something to do with it!"  
  
"It's not Lucius' style, Ron," Matt said calmly. "Malfoy has always had a long reputation of covering his tracks well before he did anything. I wouldn't rule out Draco, however."  
  
"Draco?" Sirius said, looking up at Matt.  
  
"Lucius' son," Harry responded. "He's in Slytherin, the same year as I am. I don't think he would stick his neck out like that, however."  
  
"Well, you know him better than I do, Harry," Matt said with a mild flavoring of frustration. "Who else could have done it?"  
  
"Ludo Bagman," Hermione whispered as she patted Buckbeak's brow.  
  
"There's an interesting idea," Matt said as he picked up a pair of rocks from the cave floor and started to juggle them.  
  
"The only thing I know about Bagman was that he was a Beater for the Winbourne Wasps back in the early eighties. A good one too, from what I saw." Sirius said, still continuing his rather furtive pacing. "Doesn't seem like somebody that's entrenched in the public eye like Bagman would pull something like this out in the open though."  
  
"Bagman seems all right to me," said Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament." Matt and Sirius both stared at him.  
  
"Why on earth would he be helping you?" Matt asked.  
  
"That's suspicious enough in itself," Sirius said with a frown, "but it doesn't prove anything."  
  
"Not to mention that he was mostly unaccounted for much of that night," Hermione pointed out.  
  
"Are you saying that Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?" Ron asked in an absurd tone.  
  
"Better him than Winky," Hermione said flatly. "House-elves may know their own form of magic, but a spell that requires a wand is usually out of their league."  
  
"Be pretty ironic if it were true, though," Matt said with a mirthful chuckle. Sirius took a long swig of pumpkin juice and then pointed a dirty finger at Matt.  
  
"You seem to know quite a bit about dark wizards, Matt."  
  
Matt simply shrugged his shoulders. "Being the grandson of Minerva McGonagall does have its advantages some times. Of course, my history with Crouch doesn't seem to be as prominent as yours, Mister Black." Black's eyes narrowed a bit at Matt's statement.  
  
"Did you know Crouch, Sirius?" Harry asked, still busy looking wide- eyed at Matt. Sirius gave the young Ravenclaw a dark glare before turning back to Harry.  
  
"Yes, Harry, I know Bartemius Crouch quite well." Sirius replied, his voice so low that Harry strained himself to listen. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban- without a trial."  
  
"You're joking!" Ron shouted.  
  
"At the time of Voldemort's death," Matt explained as he gave a nod of apology to Sirius, "many Ministry members were looking to round up the rest of the Death Eaters at whatever cost. They didn't want any loose ends to clutter up the happy ending. Of course, in the matter of James and Lily, sorry Harry, they wanted to find somebody as soon as possible."  
  
"Precisely," Sirius continued as he wiped his chin with one of the cleaner portions of his robe. "Crouch was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time. He had gained quite a bit of popularity from the wizard populace for his strict policies against death eaters. Giving Aurors the right to kill was a particularly popular mandate," he added darkly.  
  
"In times of troubles, it is the friend that acts like the enemy that is the most beloved friend of them all," Hermione said.  
  
"Never knew you read Faulkner, Hermione," Sirius said with a slight grin. "You two really do seem to know your stuff," he said to Matt and Hermione.  
  
"Thank kyew," Matt said childishly while Hermione blushed slightly.  
  
"Anyway," Sirius said as he turned back to Harry. "Paranoia was running rampant at the time. Nobody really knew who to trust and it was getting more and more difficult to keep Muggles away from the truth. People are scared for themselves, their families, and their friends. Throw in a volatile personality like Crouch at the top of the heap and he's bound to get some attention. People were clamoring for Crouch to be named the new Minister of Magic. Nobody seemed to care about Crouch's methods, they just looked at his results, which were pretty damn impressive."  
  
"So what happened?" Harry asked. "Why didn't he become the Minister of Magic?" Sirius turned to Matt expectantly. The brown-haired boy gave another low chuckle, seemingly savoring in the memory.  
  
"It all started when Neville's parents were kidnapped," Matt started. "I'm sure you already know that Neville's parents were both Aurors, right Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded while Ron and Hermione stared at each other in shock.  
  
"The entire Ministry was up in arms about two of their top officers unaccounted for, so they assigned Moody himself to the case. Moody found the Death Eaters that kidnapped them in a suburb outside of East Berlin a couple of days later."  
  
"And?" Ron said, finally dropping the paper and looking on with extreme interest.  
  
"Well, the three Death Eaters that Moody caught were Ryan Lestrange, Crystal Lestrange, and Barty Crouch."  
  
"But you said Crouch wasn't a Death Eater, Sirius!" Ron pointed out.  
  
"He wasn't. Moody found Barty Crouch Jr.," Sirius said with an almost mirthful tone. "Crouch's own son had been caught. Quite a nasty surprise for the old man, I would imagine."  
  
"But was his son a Death Eater?" asked Harry.  
  
"Hard to say," Sirius said, his mouth still packed with bread. "Associating with the Lestranges was almost a dead giveaway, but nothing's certain when it comes to something like this."  
  
"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione inquired. Sirius gave a harsh laugh.  
  
"This is a man who chucked his own house-elf onto the streets because she associated him with the Dark Mark, Hermione," he answered bitterly. "At least his son did get a trial, but that was only because the old man wanted to separate himself from his son as much as possible."  
  
"Covering his own ass," Matt muttered. Sirius nodded in agreement.  
  
"Too little, too late." Sirius said simply as he stared at the half- empty tankard of pumpkin juice. "He sent his own son to Azkaban. The kid died about a year after they brought him in. Crouch, being an important Ministry member, was allowed a deathbed visit. Crouch's wife died shortly thereafter. By now, all the Death Eaters that were going to be caught were either dead or in Azkaban and the people were looking to elect a Minister of Magic that didn't have so much controversial stuff on his plate."  
  
"So, kindly little social specialist Cornelius Fudge gets boosted to the top spot and Crouch is shunted away to a smaller position," Matt finished for him. "Everybody was happy about it in the end except for Crouch. He's been a radical speaker for years now. Obsessed with catching dark wizards."  
  
"It's become quite a mania for him from what I've read," Sirius said nodding. "Still trying to go back to what made him famous. An old soldier in a new time." Sirius seemed to find a great deal of humor in that.  
  
"Wow," Matt said after a long silence permeated the cave. "Been a while since I've had a good healthy conversation like this. Most of the time we just listen to Hermione bitching about house-elves and her schoolwork until Madam Pince shoos us out of the library."  
  
Harry couldn't help but laugh as Hermione gave Matt a nasty look. Sirius smiled as well and he shook his head.  
  
"You've made some interesting friends, Harry," Sirius said quietly while Matt and Hermione continued to bicker.  
  
"You have no idea," Harry said as he watched Ron try to intervene, which ultimately made him the target of their shouting.  
  
The sun was beginning to cast an orange glow into the tiny cave as the four magicians were ready to return to Hogwarts.  
  
"Be sure to watch out for yourself, Harry." Sirius said as he embraced his godson tightly. "I know you keep saying that you can take care of yourself but that's not going to stop me from worrying about you, understand? Send me a letter if anything odd happens and do not leave Hogwarts without supervision. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, Sirius," Harry replied, still a bit annoyed at Sirius' worrying but secretly happy about it as well.  
  
"And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"  
  
"We'll make sure that Harry wears clean socks and underwear too!" Ron piped up beside Harry. Sirius couldn't help but laugh as he ruffled Ron's hair with a dirty, calloused hand.  
  
"Get out of here, you smartass!" Sirius playfully ordered as Ron crawled out of the narrow opening. Harry waved goodbye to Sirius before following his friend. Matt and Hermione, who were giving some last pats to Buckbeak at the back of the cave, were about to follow suit until Sirius firmly gripped their shoulders.  
  
"What is it, Mister Black?" Hermione asked, a bit frightened by the determined look in Sirius' face.  
  
"I want you two to keep watching over Harry," Sirius said soberly, looking from Matt to Hermione quickly. "I know you two care about him so I probably don't have to ask you, but you're going to have to do my part, do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Matt and Hermione responded.  
  
"I won't let you down, Mister Black," Matt said seriously. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Tell your grandmother I said hi and remember me that next time you pull a prank, all right?" Matt and Hermione both looked at each other and grinned before turning from Sirius and walking out.  
  
"And, Hermione?" Hermione whirled around to look back at Sirius.  
  
"Yes, Mister Black?" she asked as Matt went to join Harry and Ron. Sirius picked up one of the yellowing Daily Prophets and turned it to Rita Skeeter's latest article.  
  
"Don't let anybody get to you, Hermione," Sirius said as he put his hands on the top of the paper and ripped it in two. "You and Harry will know the right path when you come to it."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Hermione muttered as she crawled through the crevice. Sirius watched the four wizards go as the made their way down the mountain. Matt and Ron were talking excitedly while Harry and Hermione were walking side by side without saying a word. Well after he had lost track of them, Sirius Black looked at the village of Hogsmeade as he sighed and remembered the times when he, James, Sirius, and Peter would climb up this mountain and sneak into this cave. This cavern of childhood memories had now evolved into a place of grown-up regret.  
  
"Kids these days," Sirius muttered as he returned to his Animagus form and went about his business.  
  
Hagrid spoke with the four magicians when they had returned from their Hogsmeade weekend and were eating dinner in the Great Hall. He had invited Ginny to drop by his hut for a picnic lunch on Sunday afternoon and asked if they would like to come as well. invited them to drop by his hut to visit him for a picnic lunch on Sunday afternoon. Hagrid even "sweetened the pot" by saying he would show them the new animals they would be working with in the next week of classes. Truth be told, the group was delighted to be spending their Sunday afternoon with the kindly groundskeeper and hardly needed any convincing to join him. So, shortly after a brief bit of early day studying in the library (at Hermione's insistence, of course) Harry, Hermione, Matt, Ron, and Ginny left the protective gates of Hogwarts and took the short path to Hagrid's humble hut.  
  
The students were smart enough to volunteer to bring their own food for the picnic. As good-natured as their titanic teacher was, his reputation as an atrocious cook was well earned. Hagrid was busy chopping firewood he had gathered the previous night from the Forbidden Forest when they arrived.  
  
"Oi, children!" Hagrid cried out merrily as he spied the five students with his beetle-black eyes. "Glad ya could make it! 'Ave you bin enjoyin' your 'Ogsmeade weekend?"  
  
Their answer was interrupted by a sudden crash from the sties holding the remaining blast-ended skrewts, which were now regarded as the foulest creatures on the planet by most of the Hogwarts students. The class started with two-dozen of the fire-breathing monstrosities but their frequent fighting amongst themselves cut their number down to half of that well before Christmas. The only skrewt that had even been tamed in the slightest was Matt's skrewt, Ginger, whom Matt made certain to keep away from the other skrewts as best he could.  
  
"Please tell me we're not going to be working with baby dragons, are we Hagrid?" Ron said, shivering a bit with every bang that emerged from the sties.  
  
"'Fraid not, Ron." Hagrid said, disappointment evident in his voice. "Looks like we won't be workin' with those 'till sixth year." Ron and Harry both blanched as Hagrid turned away from them and into the hut. Noticing the silence, Hagrid turned around once he reached the top step.  
  
"I'm just jokin', ya kids. You know that, right?"  
  
All five of them gave a significant sigh of relief as Hagrid went into his hut. Raising dragons may be illegal in the wizarding world, but that never stopped the half-giant before.  
  
Hagrid emerged from his lightly lit hut moments later with a rather large box that had numerous holes poked into it. Matt could just hear the faint cries of a creature he couldn't quite place as Hagrid moved closer to them. Ron, interested in working with an animal that probably couldn't eat him whole, was the first to rush up to the box once Hagrid gently placed it down.  
  
"Be sure to watch yerselves," Hagrid said cautiously. "And put any valuables you got in a safe place."  
  
"Valuables?" Matt and Hermione both pondered aloud before looking at one another. Harry could practically see the gears in his two friends' brains whirling about.  
  
"Nifflers!" Matt and Hermione both shouted as they rushed to the box.  
  
Sure enough, the shaggy black-haired creatures that were clustered about in the large wooden box were nifflers. Some of the critters had their long snouts upturned, presumably to avoid contact with one another, while some were dragging about on the floor. Each one of the nifflers were staring at the clustered humans curiously, wondering why they were getting so much attention all of a sudden. Their flat, tiny paws made a clacking sound against the surface of the box with each step they made.  
  
"Nifflers?" Ron said, as he poked his head into the box.  
  
"Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. Like I said before, they like shiny stuff."  
  
"What cute little creatures!" Ginny cooed as she hefted one of them out of the box. Ron rolled his eyes at his little sister, angry that she would be so immature and for the fact that he didn't pick one up before her.  
  
"They'll be part of the final," Hagrid said matter-of-factly as he bent down and began taking the nifflers out one-by-one. "Jus' read up a bit about 'em and you should be fine. Figured they could do with some fresh air, though." Once that deed was done, Hagrid clapped his large hands together and stood back up to his impressive full height.  
  
"Well," Hagrid bellowed, "let's get to eatin'!"  
  
"Hagrid, I love animals about as much as anybody I know, but I really think that this one's invading my privacy!" Matt said as he uncomfortably squirmed about on the grass surrounding Hagrid's hut.  
  
"Don' be so worried, Matt!" Hagrid said with a good-natured smile on his rotund face. "It's perfectly 'armless. Ya know that!" That didn't seem to comfort Matt too much, however.  
  
"Why couldn't we have just stuck with the skrewts!" Matt said as the tiny creature began to use its little claws to climb up Matt's shirt. "Hey! Stay out of there!" Matt yelped as the fuzzy niffler poked its long, narrow snout into Matt's right ear.  
  
"It's just helping you out with something that obviously needs cleaning," Hermione said as she and Harry were scratching another niffler's belly. "Be thankful for small favors."  
  
"Eep!" Matt shrilled as the wild-haired niffler now crawled about his shoulders and was now searching Matt's left ear for valuables. "Ginny! Lend me a hand with this thing, will ya!"  
  
Ginny was nearly rolling on the ground with laughter as she watched her friend goof about with a perfectly harmless creature. Here was Matt MacDougal, who could handle hippogriffs, blast-ended skrewts, kappas, and unicorns with a grace that put her brother Charlie to shame, being trampled by an innocent little niffler. The youngest of the Weasleys ignored the irritated look on Ron's face as she calmly plucked the tiny cave dweller from off Matt's shoulders and placed it in her lap.  
  
"There you are, Matt," Ginny said slowly in a voice that was quite like her mother's. "The big, bad niffler can't hurt you anymore," she said as the "vicious creature" started rolling around on the grass. "Want a warm glass of milk before you go to bed?"  
  
"I can't get sympathy no matter where I go," Matt said with a fake air of despondence as he picked up another niffler in his worn hands.  
  
"Maybe you should stick with causing pranks instead of feeling sorry for yourself, Matt," Harry said as he stood up and brushed some clinging blades of grass of his wizard robes.  
  
"On the bright side of things, Harry," Matt retorted. "I have found another asset about these little critters."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Well," Matt said as he paused to place the niffler on top of his head. "If you ever start to lose your hair these things will make a damn good wig!" Ron and Hermione both laughed at that.  
  
"I don't think my hair looks that bad!" Harry said in his own defense as he hesitatingly looked at the niffler on Matt's scalp.  
  
"Keep telling yourself that, Harry." Matt said as the niffler began to slowly descend Matt's cranium and venture out onto his broad shoulders. "Keep telling yourself and eventually it will come true."  
  
Harry was set to continue the defense of his rather unorthodox follicles until they all heard the sound of footsteps on the crisp grass. They could see three figures making their way to the hut, each of them wearing the sky-blue robes that were commonly worn by the students at Beauxbatons. Each of them were easily recognizable to Harry, and he couldn't help but smile as they came closer and closer.  
  
"So 'zer you are!" Fleur Delacour said with mock extravagancy as she broke into a slight run to get there quicker, her silvery-blonde hair wafting about in the early spring winds. "I 'ave been looking all over fer you today!"  
  
"Nice to see you, Fleur," Matt said as he, Harry, and Hermione stood up to greet the half-veela girl. Ginny was quite shocked by the elegant lady's appearance and Ron was too nervous to stand up. "What brings you to Hagrid's hut this afternoon."  
  
"I am seemply enjoying the vonders of 'vat 'Ogwarts has to offer," Fleur said as she took in more of the fresh, spring air.  
  
"Ooh!" a small blur shouted as it rushed by Fleur. "Look at ze creatures, sister! Look at ze creatures!" Gabrielle Delacour had picked up one of the nifflers and looked at it with awe. Fleur gave a doting smile as her little sister picked up one of the nifflers and nuzzled it with her nose. Fleur's sparkling white teeth was an almost intoxicating sight for poor Ron, who now had a niffler on top of his head and didn't even notice it. Harry, Hermione, and Matt had gained a newfound respect for the Beauxbatons champion when they saw how she watched over her sister. It almost seemed that the half- veela became a different person when the charming little girl was around.  
  
"'Ve do not often see nifflers at Beauxbatons," Fleur said as she giggled a bit at her little sister's playfulness. "Zey live far away from ze palace grounds."  
  
"Feel free to play with them if you like, young lady," Hagrid said kindly as she patted little Gabrielle's hand with his huge left hand.  
  
"'ello, Hagrid," said the third visitor, a deep almost husky tone resonating from it.  
  
"Madame Maxine," Hagrid said rather formally as he looked up to see the Headmaster of Beauxbatons in all her glory. Her normally olive-skinned face had paled a bit with the coming of a British winter but the bright spring sun was quick to restore it to its normal graceful state. Her long, black hair was dressed back in a simple bun, causing it to sink down just past the small of her back. Hagrid tried to beat back a blush before replying further.  
  
"What brings you 'ere today, Madame Maxine?"  
  
"I 'vas wondering if you would like to take a stroll into the Forbidden Forest," Maxine announced in a stilting formal manner that obviously was an attempt to beat back any hint of shyness.  
  
"Why, I'd be honored, Madame Maxine!" Hagrid stammered as Matt and the others looked at one another with bemused looks. "Would you take care of the nifflers fer me, Matt?"  
  
"Won't be a problem at all, Hagrid," Matt said smiling.  
  
The titanic games keeper held out his arm for Madame Maxine to accept and the two began to make their way north to the Forbidden Forest. As soon as they stepped into the dark woodland, even their colossal frames were hidden from the students' eyes.  
  
"Very interesting," Fleur said aloud as she continued to look into the forest.  
  
"Well," Hermione said as she continued to sweep up some of the nifflers, making sure to save one for Gabrielle, and placing them into the box. "Now what do we do?"  
  
"Vell," Fleur said hesitantly as she pawed the ground with a delicate foot. "Zer is anuzzer reason why I came to speak wit' you today."  
  
"What's that?" Harry asked.  
  
"I vatched you in ze first task against the 'Ungarian 'Orntail," Fleur said as pulled out her wand and began to perform a summoning charm, "an' I 'ave been wanting to see if I can match your flying prowess." A brightly painted broom was now in Fleur's hands, the small etching of "Firebolt" engraved at the end of the handle.  
  
Once again, Harry couldn't help but smile.  
  
'I think I'm in love,' Ron thought.  
  
It had only taken a handful of minutes for the Gryffindors to rush back to their dormitories and return with their brooms. The skies surrounding Hagrid's hut were soon clustered by five witches and wizards soaring through the spring sky. Fleur and Harry were racing about on their Firebolts while Ron watched in awe upon his modified Silver Arrow. Ginny had managed to convince Fred and George to let she and Hermione borrow their Cleansweeps for the afternoon and they too were up in the air, much to Hermione's dismay.  
  
"Any chance there are airbags on these brooms?" Hermione said unnervingly as she held onto her broom for dear life.  
  
"Don't be so worried, Hermione," Ginny said calmly as she lazily circled Hermione again and again, making certain not to stray too far. "You can learn how to do this with a little time."  
  
"I think I can incorporate my time into something much more valuable than this," Hermione retorted as she tried her hardest not to look down. Learning the true nature of flying was not something you could read about in a book, so, naturally, Hermione had quite a bit of difficulty with it.  
  
Ron continued to try to pester Matt to fly a bit every time he neared the ground. Ron figured that the sooner Matt got to flying than the sooner he would learn about Quidditch. And, the sooner he learned about Quidditch, the sooner Matt would be normal.  
  
"Forget it, Weasley," Matt said evenly as he watched Gabrielle romp around with the niffler. "I'm perfectly fine on the ground."  
  
Fleur and Harry finally came to a stunning stop several hundred feet above the ground, a slight bit of sweat trickling down their foreheads. Fleur could have sworn that she could make out the figure of Hagrid sitting on top of a small hill in a glen of the forest. She honestly didn't know what to make of the kindly, though extremely, what's the word, homely half-giant that had taken an interest in her mentor. However, if Madame Maxine was happy with Hagrid's company then she wouldn't make any effort to prohibit her from spending more time with him. Madame Maxine had been like a second mother to her and she wished to see her happy, no matter what the circumstances. Then, the half-veela turned to Harry, who seemed to be taking a particular interest in a scene happening below them. Once the silver-haired young woman was able to follow Harry's eyes, she understood what it was.  
  
"She iz very intriguing, no?" Fleur said with a mischievous grin upon her almost regal features. Harry snapped to Fleur's attention in the blink of an eye, looking a bit embarrassed about seemingly spacing out from his current company.  
  
"Pardon?" he asked, his voice suddenly dry.  
  
"Her-mi-oh-knee," Fleur said, making certain to get the name correctly. "You find her han'some, do you?"  
  
Harry gave a brief glance down at his bushy-haired friend, who was beginning to fly with more and more confidence at every moment. He hoped that Fleur hadn't caught him looking but the mischievous glint in her magnificent eyes quelled that hope immediately.  
  
"We're just friends," Harry said in a tone of voice that he hoped indicated confidence.  
  
"Ah," Fleur said as she began to slowly levitate around Harry's inert position in the sky, "it iz one of zose. I saw her at ze Yule Ball dancing with you."  
  
"I just, um, needed a date for the Yule Ball and she didn't have one, and, um, we decided to go together, and, um, we're just friends." Harry responded quickly and almost incomprehensibly. Fleur shrugged her shoulders, clearly enjoying the pressure she had under Harry right now. She would have continued further but she spotted four figures over the horizon. Harry saw them soon after and seemed to adopt a battle stance atop his broom, all the nervousness and caution he held before wiped away in an instance.  
  
Each of the young men flying up towards them were wearing blood-red Quidditch robes, each of them flying with a grace and skill that was rarely ever seen by most. The leader of the pack was particularly impressive, hurtling through the air with such a practiced skill and grace that it seemed as if the fellow was born and bred for the sky. Once Harry was able to manage a closer look at the fellow, he was able to understand why.  
  
For at the head of the pack was Viktor Krum, the seeker for the Bulgarian National Team and arguably the finest Quidditch player in the world at the tender age of eighteen. He was the eldest of the Triwizard champions and many considered him to be the odds on favorite to win the entire thing. On the ground, Krum wasn't much to look at. He was often seen by most a skulking, quiet fellow whose physical features were more disheveled than rugged. His hook-like nose and rather pale complexion reminded Harry of a young Snape, although he imagined that Snape was quite a bit less bulky than Krum at that age. In the air, however, Viktor seemed like a different person. The wrinkles and bruises in his face seemed to fade and the often dismal look he had while on the ground melted away and turned into an adventurous glint in his eye and an almost childlike enthusiasm.  
  
"'ello, Harry! Madam Delacour!" Krum said as he came to a graceful stop with no trouble at all. "Enjoying this afternoon in the air, are you?"  
  
'His English seems to get much better up here,' Harry mused as he spotted Katie Bell on her broom beside Viktor.  
  
"Hey, Harry!" Katie said in a playful voice as she skidded to a stop in front of Harry and Fleur. "Hope you're not hanging out with Fleur up here where Hermione can't keep her eyes on you." Harry tried not to blush at that comment.  
  
"Is zer a reason you are here, Monsieur Krum?" Fleur said harshly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. If Krum paid heed to Fleur's irritation, he gave no signal of it.  
  
"I haff heard zat you are a good Quidditch seeker, Mister Potter!" Viktor said as steered his broom forward alongside with Katie's.  
  
"I'm okay, I guess," Harry said while looking down shyly. He was always told he was a good Quidditch player but he wasn't too sure of that himself.  
  
"Zen I have come up to challenge you!" Viktor said, the glint in his eyes now far more prominent. "Four-on-four, no snitch. You may haff one of my teammates for the match," he said, gesturing to the other two fellows behind Krum. Harry recognized them as Zograf, the keeper for the Bulgarian national team, and Ivanova, a fair-haired fellow that was a chaser. Fleur seemed to perk up quite a bit at the mention of a Quidditch match against the infamous Viktor Krum, the suspicious look in her eyes fading quickly.  
  
"May I be on your team, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, never taking her eyes of Krum. "I vould like nothing better zen to wound iz ego!" she said as she pointed a fine finger at her Triwizard rival.  
  
"Then I'm on Viktor's team," Katie said as she wrapped an arm around Viktor's shoulders. "A girl's gotta watch out for her main squeeze, right Fleur?" Ivanova, Zograf, and Krum all nearly doubled over with laughter while Fleur vehemently denied any attraction to Harry in several different languages while Harry placed his head in his hands and tried to drown out the scene altogether.  
  
'Maybe I can learn to turn myself into a turnip,' Harry thought as the three young Bulgarians' laughter began to die down. 'I'd probably get less attention that way.'  
  
"I want to play! I want to play!" Ron cried urgently, zooming up quickly on his Silver Arrow. "Can I be on your team, Harry?" Harry smiled in relief at his friend's enthusiasm. Ron nearly idolized Krum for his Quidditch talents and not playing against him now would break his poor friend's heart.  
  
"Sure, Ron." Harry said with a broad grin. He then took a look at the brown-haired Zograf, the chaser's bright blue eyes matching the colors of the afternoon sky. "Care to be this team's keeper?"  
  
"Of course," Zograf said as he flew over to Harry's side to join Harry, Fleur, and Ron.  
  
"All right, zen," Krum said as he appraised his opponents. "Then who is our team's keeper?"  
  
"I'll play," a tiny voice said behind Krum. Krum, Katie, and Ivanova all swerved around to see Ginny Weasley behind them, a nervous look of anticipation on her thirteen-year- old face. "I can be a keeper."  
  
Viktor made a lap around the auburn-haired young woman as he tried to push the shocked look out of his face. Ivanova turned to Katie with a questioning look on his face while Katie just look at the youngest Weasley with quite a bit of pride.  
  
"You do not have to if you do not want to," Viktor said cautiously.  
  
"I play keeper for my brother's Quidditch matches back at home," Ginny said, her voice a bit louder now. "I'm not the best out there, but I can try." Viktor's normally withdrawn features were brightened with a tremendous grin.  
  
"Very well, zen!" Krum said with a whoop, "I shall prepare the field." The seeker then hurtled to the ground at lightening speed, astounding even Harry with his ability. Viktor only stopped to see a young, brown-haired woman clinging to her broom a good one hundred feet below the others.  
  
"Are you all right?" Krum asked. Hermione somehow managed to stop looking at the ever-intimidating ground to look up at him. Her face was several shades paler than her normally fair countenance. George Weasley's Cleansweep had gained a significant amount of new scratches since she took to the air.  
  
"Depends on how you frame the meaning of the word," Hermione said sickly as she tried not to look back down to the ground.  
  
"Would you like to play Quidditch with us, Her-mo-ninny?"  
  
"I'd rather not," Hermione said as she looked up trying to see Harry. "I think I'd much rather be on the ground right now." Viktor hedged a bit as she watched this young woman slowly fly to the ground at a speed that even a snail would not be envious of.  
  
"Are you certain you do not need help?" Viktor called out, cupping his stubby hands to make himself heard better.  
  
"I'll be fine," she said miserably as she almost slid back to the forest floor. "I'll just be down in a couple of hours."  
  
Harry couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun playing Quidditch as he chased Viktor Krum around the makeshift Quidditch pitch. He had never been a Chaser before and he tried not to be awed or intimidated by Krum's blatantly superior skill on his broom. For him, quite frankly, just keeping up with the prodigy was good enough for him. And, when he managed to fake his way around Krum and fired a blistering shot past Ginny for a goal, Krum gave him a hearty pat on the back, which filled Harry with an intoxicating sense of pride and accomplishment.  
  
However, for all his efforts, Krum's team obliterated Harry's. Ivanova and Krum clearly outclassed Harry and Fleur on both sides of the field, as much as Fleur hated to admit it. Ron tried his best as a Beater, even firing several shots at Krum and Ivanova that reminded Harry quite a bit of Fred and George, but neither Ron or Zograf could stop Krum for long. Harry lost count of the number of goals that Krum and Ivanova had scorched by the unfortunate Zograf or the stops that Ginny made on the other end, surprising everyone on the field including Ron. Then again, it didn't matter much to Harry if he won or lost this match. He was in the sky doing what he loved, a blessed freedom from the grueling training, the stress of the Triwizard Tournament, and the threat of Voldemort.  
  
In short, he was being blessedly normal.  
  
Hagrid handed Madame Maxine a shiny, red apple before continuing to lay back in the springy grass on a knoll about two hundred yards away from where Harry was playing. The grounds keeper had pulled out his pair of Omniculars and watched the impromptu match with a huge smile on his face, cheering like a madman whenever Harry, Ron, or Ginny made a good move. Madame Maxine couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's exuberance as she took a large bite into the apple, almost treasuring its simple taste as she sat beside Hagrid on the hill.  
  
"You have interesting students, 'Agrid." Madame Maxine said as she too looked into her Omniculars. "You must be very proud of zem."  
  
"Oh, believe me, I am!" Hagrid exulted as he put down his Omniculars to look at Madame Maxine. "I couldn't be more proud of 'em. They're such good kids."  
  
Neither of them said anything as they continued to watch the young witches and wizards fly about. Hagrid thought back to what Dumbledore said before Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had arrived at Hogwarts, before Madame Maxine had arrived. He said that the Triwizard Tournament was a time for witches and wizards of all nationalities to bond with one another and to establish trust. It reminded him of the war against Voldemort, a time when paranoia ruled the day and no one knew just who to trust. The wires of communication between the wizarding schools around the world were frayed and worn with deceit and self-interest.  
  
But now he saw three Durmstrang students and a Beauxbatons half-veela soaring through the air along with four Hogwarts students without a care in the world. Thoughts of political and economical self-interest were nonexistent within them, they were just enjoying the wonders that life could offer them. They were a new generation, a generation who would not only have to face the challenges of the future, but the mess that the previous generations had left behind before. Hagrid didn't know whether a simple Quidditch match was a sign that these young men and women could make the world a better place working with one another, but it certainly was a fine start.  
  
"A fine start," Hagrid murmured as he placed Maxine's hand in his own and gently kissed it.  
  
"You were an absolute terror up there Hermione!" Matt shouted.  
  
"Shut up, Matt."  
  
"Soaring through the air with the greatest of ease!"  
  
"Shut up, Matt."  
  
"I had to make a call to the Forbidden Forest to warn them about incoming vomit storms, but it was an impressive effort, nonetheless!"  
  
"Shut up, Matt!"  
  
Gabrielle laughed as Matt continued to tease Hermione about her lack of flying prowess, the niffler perched on her right shoulder. The young, half-veela thought that the two of them would make an excellent comedy act.  
  
"Well, allow me to say that you certainly impressed Harry with your aerial acrobatics," Matt said as he took a seat beside Gabrielle, using a levitation charm to carry his spell book with him. "I'd say she swept him of his feet but I don't think that Hermione and brooms mesh together too well, don't you think, Gabrielle?"  
  
Gabrielle Delacour's only response was a high-pitched squeal of laughter as the Ravenclaw started tickling her with a vengeance. Hermione gave her friend a wistful glare as Matt gave Gabrielle another piggyback ride around Hagrid's hut. The empathy that Matt had established with the nine-year-old was almost amazing to Hermione.  
  
'It probably doesn't hurt that he's still a kid himself,' Hermione mused as Matt got on all fours and gave Gabrielle a horseback ride.  
  
"Never trust men, Gabrielle," Hermione told her as Matt came to a stop several feet in front of her. "Interaction with them will bring nothing more than psychological baggage and a loss of mental acumen." Matt and Gabrielle exchanged a baffled look, Matt having to crane his neck to do so, and continued their romp around Hagrid's hut.  
  
Hermione gave a brief sigh before picking up Matt's spell book and lazily leafing through it. She hoped that Harry would be okay against Viktor Krum. Viktor was a fine Quidditch player and she didn't want Harry doubting his own skills at such a pivotal point in the semester. Of course, it wasn't her worrying about Harry that led her to her current mood, it was what else was going on around them. The talk they had with Sirius was exhilarating not only for the information she received but for the fear that came along with it. Ever since she left the cave, there was a bit of a chill about her that every now and then caused her to shiver a bit, as if she wasn't used to what she was getting into. She could tell Matt had the same expression on his face as well. Neither Harry or Ron knew much of the dark times during Voldemort's reign, but Hermione had read so much about it that it made her head spin. She was never a huge fan of Professor Trelawney's idea of predetermined destiny and other such rubbish that she had read about during her short tenure in Trelawney's divination class, but she couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. Very wrong.  
  
"Help me. . ."  
  
Hermione snapped out of her reveries, her eyes wide and her heart pounding like a jackhammer. She heard something, she knew she heard it. Her logical mind told her that there was nothing to hear, just a simple figment of an overactive imagination. However, something else seemed to speak to her, something with even more power than her incredible mind could ever display. It was the same voice that screamed at her when Hermione saw Macnair prepare to snap Matt's neck, the same voice that told her how to perform a spell that she had never seen.  
  
Instinct.  
  
Hermione raced into the Forbidden Forest with Matt right on her heels. She wasn't certain if Matt had heard the same voice as she had but now was hardly the time to ask. Hermione slinked her way through the dense shrubbery and tricky forest floor with a grace that made it look like she had lived there all her life. It was all Matt could to keep up with the Gryffindor as they ran further and further into the mysterious woodlands surrounding Hogwarts.  
  
Matt and Hermione both skidded to a stop almost simultaneously a good hundred yards east of Hagrid's hut. Neither truly knew what they were looking for but they continued their search.  
  
"Help me. . ."  
  
Matt and Hermione turned to one another, as if to confirm that they had heard what they had just heard. This was a human voice, nothing created in the mind's eye. Matt and Hermione looked around wildly to find the source of the pain-laden voice, each passing second bringing about a new air of desperation.  
  
"Please. . ."  
  
"An invisibility cloak," Matt and Hermione both said as they rushed to the source of the voice. Like a man in the dark, Matt groped his hand forward towards a tree stump, searching for anything that he could grab and pull away. Finally, his coursed fingers slid across a velvety like material. The silver cloak began to materialize before their eyes as Matt slowly pulled the cloak away from its owner.  
  
And there, leaning against the hollowed out trunk of the Forbidden Forest, sat a bloody and brutally beaten Bartemius Crouch.  
  
Crud! This was the longest chapter yet! I've got to stop coming up with ideas for what to write about, it's taking away all my precious time! Anyway, enough complaining about my sudden brainstorm of ideas, it's time for the chapter preview.  
  
Well, Harry, Hermione, and Matt wanted to find out where Crouch was and it looks like they found him. The problem is that Crouch is near death, the target of a brutal assassination attempt. While Hermione races to save the war hero, Harry and Matt race back to Hogwarts to find Dumbledore. Will Hermione be able to save Crouch's life? What troubles will our two young heroes face back at Hogwarts? Who is the mysterious assassin? Find out the answers to a few of these questions in the next installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery. . . Pathways to the Past. See you soon! 


	10. Pathways to the Past

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed their Fourth of July weekend. To you people living outside America and had to endure our little hullabaloo, my dearest apologies. We're two-thirds of the way through with this little puppy and allow me to say it's been quite a ride. I think it's high time for another disclaimer, don't you think?  
  
Disclaimer: For those of you who haven't bothered to read the first ten chapters and decided to skip to the latest chapter of the story to see if you like it, (You know who you are.) then I don't own Harry Potter. For most of my readers, however, we've already got that down so there's no real need to develop it any further.  
  
Chapter 10- Pathways to the Past  
  
Matt used his wand to shoot a flare up through the cover of the trees while Hermione started ripping apart what was left of Barty Crouch's frayed wizard robes. A hideous gash about two inches deep marked his torso and much of the blood that had spilt from it now lay dry on his chest. His blonde hair, usually seen so well maintained and proper in his photographs in the newspapers, was matted with dirt and sweat. A thin trickle of blood from Crouch's broken nose was seeping into his moustache and his bare feet were festooned with scratches and bruises, many of them obviously not from the light terrain of the forest.  
  
However, the most disturbing thing about Bartemius Crouch wasn't physical, it was his mental state that truly frightened them. The man who had begged for their help had faded away in a blink of an eye and was now replaced by a calm man who was speaking clearly and gesturing as if he were speaking at a Ministry conference. Matt and Hermione tried not to stare in shock as Crouch carried on a conversation with someone they couldn't see.  
  
"That fool Fudge will never know what he's doing," Crouch said in an absurd tone. "I don't know what's on the Ministry's mind, to be brutally honest."  
  
Hermione turned to Matt as she tried to close up the chest wound with a variety of charms, many of them combination of various healing charms she had learned in Professor Flitwick's class. She was desperate for an explanation and Matt was the only person she could find.  
  
"Someone placed him under the Cruciatus curse," Matt said as he tore off a part of his robe, used a quick charm to douse the sliver of cloth with water and then used it as a cold compress. "Quite a while too, from what I can see. It's brought upon a bizarre case of schizophrenia. It's like he's just been taken out of a coma."  
  
Hermione swirled around as she heard the sound of a broom coming to a stop above her. Viktor Krum was approaching the forest floor, leaping off his Nimbus 2000 with a very questioning look on his face. Harry and Fleur were the next to arrive, followed shortly by Ron, Ginny, Ivanova, and Zagrof.  
  
"My goodness!" Fleur nearly shrieked when she saw Crouch, her fetching eyes as wide as saucers as she remained stuck to the broom. Ron and Ginny looked at one another, both of them silently asking questions that neither one had the answer for.  
  
"Is that?" Harry asked as he leaped from his Firebolt. He knelt by Matt as he inspected the body, particularly on the man's cloudy, distant eyes.  
  
"It's Crouch." Matt answered as Matt tore off yet another a piece of his robe, this time to wrap it around a large cut on Crouch's right arm. "Someone put him under the Cruciatus curse."  
  
"The mental trauma and the loss of blood is causing him to fade fast," Hermione said as she continued to work intensely. "We're going to need to find Dumbledore or Crouch will die!"  
  
"DUMBLEDORE!" Crouch screamed, his once faded eyes were now bright and alert. Crouch had grasped a handful of Harry's robes and dragged the black-haired Gryffindor closer and closer to his face, his voice a desperate whisper. Harry pondered over if he should break the grip, it would be simple enough to do, and back away as he strained to hear what Crouch had to say..  
  
"I. . . must. . . see. . . Dumbledore."  
  
"All right," Matt said decisively, his booming voice snapping the others to attention. "Fleur, get off your broom, I'm going to need it in a second."  
  
A bit shocked that she was being spoken to in such a gruff manner, the half-veela slowly lowered herself to the ground without a word.  
  
"Harry and I will use the Firebolts to get back to Hogwarts. Hermione, you tend to Crouch's wounds and keep him alive until we get back. I'm not sure if we can do anything about the trauma from the Cruciatus curse, but I also know that we have to help his body cope by doing some of the things for it. Ron and Ginny, assist her anyway you can and keep your ears open in case the people who attacked him are still out there. Viktor and you two," Matt continued, pointing to Zagrof and Ivanova, "go with Fleur and find Hagrid and Madame Maxine. I doubt they've gone too far into the forest. Maybe they saw something that we didn't."  
  
None of the witches and wizards seemed to have an objection to all of this, although there was quite a bit of shock and surprise. Ron, for example, was looking as if Matt had grown an extra head.  
  
"Well?" Matt said, the harshness of his voice increasing with every second he spoke. "What are you all standing around for?"  
  
Matt raced for Fleur's broom while the others swung into action. Ron had his wand drawn and was peering into the Forbidden Forest while Ginny wiped Crouch's forehead tenderly. Fleur had taken Ron's Silver Arrow and flew off into another part of the forest with Viktor and his Quidditch teammates behind her. Harry gently slid his robes away from Crouch's fading grip and boarded his own Firebolt and zoomed off towards Hogwarts.  
  
It appeared that Matt's dislike of Quidditch did not come from a fear of flying as he and Harry hurtled towards Hogwarts at breakneck speeds. Matt didn't have Viktor's skill or speed in the air, not even Harry's skill, The two had covered the 500-yard distance in just under a minute and skidded to a stop at the border of the Hogwarts moat. Students looked at them alarmingly as the two rushed past everyone searching for someone, anyone that could lead them to Dumbledore.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the Forbidden Forest, Bartemius Crouch was continuing a rather enthusiastic conversation with an oak tree twenty feet away from where he was bleeding to death.  
  
"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. No sugar, please, just a hint of lemon. My wife and son will be arriving shortly as we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. And Mrs. Fudge. You are welcome to bring your lovely fiancé if you wish."  
  
"What in the bloody hell is he talking about?" Ron said as he looked down at Crouch with a disturbed look on his face.  
  
"The trauma's getting worse," Hermione said as she gritted her teeth in frustration. "His past memories are starting to mesh together. He may die from psychological shock even if I stop all the bleeding."  
  
"At least I finally see what Percy sees in him," Ron said as he looked back up, his eyes searching for anything even remotely threatening. "That Crouch is nuttier than an outhouse rat!"  
  
"Hush, Ron!" Ginny whispered harshly, tears threatening to pour from her eyes as she frustrated herself over what she was doing. "Can't you see this man is dying?"  
  
Hermione tried her best to drown out Ron and Ginny's pointless bickering as she continued to tend to Crouch. It appeared that the man's bloodstream was overloading on his own endorphins, which combined with the mind-altering effects of the Cruciatus Curse, could cause an almost inconceivable amount of psychological damage if not treated soon. She hoped and prayed that Crouch's own body could mend the inside of Crouch, or at least keep the psychological shock in check so that it would not interfere with Crouch's physical repair. However, with every trick she tried and every new spell she pulled out of her head, she realized it was doing less and less good. As much as she wanted to slink away from the horrific scene, a voice in her head would tell her that she was holding this man's life in her hands. It may have been a man that she didn't care for very much, a man who enforced rules and regulations that lead to the deaths of dozens of innocent people, but a man nonetheless. So, fighting back her own fears and trepidations, she continued to her work, hoping against hope that Crouch would hold out long enough for Dumbledore to arrive.  
  
It wasn't then until Hermione saw that Crouch's eyes were upon her once again.  
  
"Who are. . . you?" Crouch asked, his suddenly clear eyes now on Hermione.  
  
"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm a fourth-year student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Hermione made sure to stretch out her answer as far as she could. The longer Crouch could maintain his normal psyche, the better off he would be in the long run.  
  
"Granger. . ." Crouch mumbled, his mind obviously searching for recognition.  
  
"Please try not to talk," Hermione spoke slowly while attaching a fresh bandage over the chest wound. "You've been beaten rather badly. It is best to simply save your strength."  
  
"Granger. . ." Crouch continued to murmur, his eyes suddenly widening with realization. "You and Macnair," his tremulous voice increasing in volume. "The Dark Lord is searching for you!"  
  
Hermione tried her best not to flinch at the idea of Voldemort searching for her as Crouch grabbed the front of her robes. His pale hands, still enveloped with dried blood and sweat, held onto her robes like a vice even while he continued to tremble madly. His eyes were bulging madly, as if it took a tremendous amount of effort just to speak.  
  
"I escaped from. . . Hangleton. I must warn Dumbledore. . . It's all. . . my fault. . . all of it. . . my fault. . Bertha. . . dead. . Macnair. . . my son. . . Granger. . . Potter. . . dead. . . the Dark Lord. . stronger. . . Pettigrew. . . all my fault. ."  
  
Ginny looked at Hermione with a petrified expression on her face, looking as if she were about to faint. Ron's eyes were insanely wide, looking from Hermione to Crouch with a stunned look on his face that mirrored his sister's.  
  
"Where did you escape from?" Hermione cried, trying desperately to split her time between healing Crouch and trying to decipher Crouch's confusing information. "What is all your fault? You're not making any sense, Mr. Crouch."  
  
"Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s," Crouch responded, his eyes once again becoming glassy as he once again chatted with the oak tree. "We couldn't be more proud."  
  
'Dammit!' Hermione wanted to scream as she cast another Eneverate spell.  
  
Harry and Matt nearly bowled over a small group of second-year Gryffindors as they rushed up to the second floor of Hogwarts to Dumbledore's office. The heavy oak doors leading almost seemed to shatter as Harry shoved them aside, causing the doors to crash into the unforgiving stone walls.  
  
"I'd hate to see the repair bill for this place after all of this," Matt said as he followed Harry up the stone steps. Harry was the only one who knew the way to Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Keep moving," Harry nearly shouted as Matt matched him step for step. After several minutes of non-stop movement, Harry and Matt slid to a stop in front of a menacing stone gargoyle. It stood unmoving as the two students spent a few precious moments trying to regain their breath.  
  
"Sher. . . sherbet lemon!" Harry panted urgently as Matt shook his head to clear out the weariness of the rest of his body.  
  
Unfortunately, the intimidating gargoyle refused to move at Harry's request. Sherbet lemon was the password to Dumbledore's office two years ago but it appears that it had been changed since that time. It seemed that the malevolent glare that seemed to spring out from the gargoyle's face intensified at the incorrect password. Harry wanted to kick the dumb thing in frustration.  
  
"I thought you said you knew what the password was!" Matt yelled his frustration slowly beginning to boil over.  
  
"It was the password a while back!" Harry said in self-defense. "I didn't think he'd change it!" Harry slammed his hands against the gargoyle forcefully, trying to will the gargoyle away from the blocked passageway. "Move you stupid statue!"  
  
"That's sure to help matters, Harry!" Matt said, the sarcasm clearly evident in his voice. "The sculptures around here are always intimidated when someone shouts at them."  
  
"Shut up!" Harry hissed. "Where else could Dumbledore be?"  
  
"Damned if I know," Matt mumbled as he racked his brain over the possibilities. "Well, he could be in the Great Hall. Heaven knows, how much time he spends eating in there. Or maybe. . ."  
  
"The staff room!" Harry and Matt both cried in unison as they both rushed off back to the first floor. Matt and Harry had just reached the oak doors when. . .  
  
"POTTER! McGONAGALL!"  
  
Matt nearly fell over backwards while he and Harry skidded to a stop and whirled back around. Snape had just emerged from Dumbledore's office, his usual sour grin seemingly framed to his face. However, his eyes seemed to glint a bit when he saw the two "troublemakers" seemingly mucking about where they didn't belong. Harry and Matt were nearly halfway back to the gargoyle by the time the wall shut, leaving the two students back to square one and with an angry potions master to deal with.  
  
"We need to see Dumbledore, Professor Snape!" Matt shouted, deciding to throw all caution to the winds. "It's an emergency."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore has no time to do with you delinquents," Snape said with his familiar icy tone. "And I have no time for you as well."  
  
"Professor!" Harry nearly screamed, causing the potions professor to turn a nasty gaze on the Gryffindor. "We found Bartemius Crouch in the forest. He's been attacked!"  
  
"Once again, Mister Potter, the headmaster is busy. You wouldn't like the consequences if I have to repeat myself once again."  
  
"He's been placed under the Cruciatus Curse by someone," Matt said, now almost pleading. "He said he had information to give to Dumbledore. Hermione's trying to keep him alive but she's not as skilled a healer as Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey!" Matt stopped to take a breath, exhausted by both his lengthy plea and his trip back to Hogwarts.  
  
"We need to see him Professor Snape," Harry said evenly, a fierce look of determination in his eyes. "We'd like your help in this matter but we won't hesitate to stop you from interfering with this either."  
  
A brief flicker of shock shone on Snape's face that both Harry and Matt would have paid money to see further. However, the slight bit of shock soon faded away and was replaced by a strange smirk.  
  
"Is that a threat, Mister Potter?" Snape said, twirling the right side of his cloak around his shoulders and placing his fingers upon his chin. If Harry didn't know any better, he would have said that Snape spoke to him approvingly.  
  
"Fair enough," Snape said as he twirled back to the stone gargoyle. "Snickers!"  
  
While Harry and Matt looked at one another in confusion, the stone gargoyle blocking the entrance to Dumbledore's office crawled off its pedestal and leaped aside. Once the pathway was clear, Snape pointed his wand upwards and cast a small fire spell on his own wand, essentially turning it into a makeshift torch.  
  
"Snickers?" Matt asked as Snape turned around to ask why they were still standing about.  
  
"The man's a lunatic," Snape said as he slowly traversed the steps downward to Dumbledore's domain. "Are you coming or not?"  
  
Harry and Matt needed no further prompting as they followed the most hated man at Hogwarts down the drafty staircase to speak with the most admired man at Hogwarts. Snape didn't even bother to knock on the door once they reached their destination; he simply flung the door open and strode into Dumbledore's office like he owned the place, as the Muggle movies would say. Dumbledore, instead of being alarmed by the sudden intrusion, simply had a mildly curious look on his face as he looked from Harry to Matt to Snape.  
  
"Is there anything wrong?" Dumbledore asked calmly as he continued to feed his pet phoenix by hand.  
  
"They claim that Bartemius Crouch is in the Forbidden Forest," Snape said quickly, not even allowing the two students the time to respond. Dumbledore continued to feed the last scraps of Fawkes' food before responding.  
  
"Lead the way," he said simply with a rather flat tone, now moving at a speed that even men half his age could even hope to accomplish.  
  
Some of the students that had been bowled over by Harry and Matt on the way up to Dumbledore's office were now able to witness yet another bizarre event. Snape, Harry, and Matt nearly had to run to keep up with Dumbledore's brisk strides through the castle's main corridor and through the castle gates. Matt had almost offered the idea of using the brooms to return to the Forbidden Forest, but the sheer determination in Dumbledore's stride quickly made that a non-issue.  
  
"What did Mr. Crouch say, you two?" Dumbledore asked as the sun shone bright on their faces.  
  
"It's difficult to figure out sir," Matt said as he ran up to Dumbledore's side. "It's obvious he's been placed under the Cruciatus Curse and undergone some physical abuse. One second he was panicky and desperate and the next he was calm and speaking like nothing happened. It almost seems like he's become a schizophrenic from the mental trauma.  
  
"Indeed," said Dumbledore as the four of them quickened their pace into the Forbidden Forest.  
  
"Anna is such a lovely young lass," Barty Crouch said to Hermione with the strident air of a nobleman before laughing shortly. "She would be perfect for our boy, Barty. Too bad my boy just can't keep his head out of the clouds!"  
  
Hermione tried her best to tune out what had now become nothing more than random blabbering from the old warhorse as she her brain for any charm or incantation that would have any impact on prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. She had managed to heal Crouch of his physical maladies. His broken ribs had been set back together as best as possible and were sown up hastily, but safely. The many cuts on his face and feet were bandaged neatly, and the horrific gash on his left side had been stitched up and his arm placed in a makeshift sling. It was quite an impressive effort for a fourteen-year-old woman working with nothing more than a wand, her own knowledge, and two "assistants," whose help was now mostly extended to staring at Crouch, petrified.  
  
But she was failing.  
  
And she knew she was failing as well.  
  
Hermione Granger despised failure more than anything else. She loathed it with a burning and undying passion. To her, there was not a single problem or situation that she could ever come across and not solve with her own abilities. No degree of mental or, at least in the last several months, physical strain would stop her from doing what was necessary to succeed. She would succeed at everything she did with her own capabilities, no one else's. Not Matt's. Not Harry's. Her own.  
  
She couldn't help but shudder as the memories of Macnair and that fateful battle in Snape's dungeon raced back to her. She threw everything she had at the executioner, even something that she didn't even know she had, and it did nothing. Less than nothing, as far as she was concerned. She had failed that night. Failed miserably.  
  
And Hermione Granger despised failure.  
  
She wasn't about to fail again.  
  
"Listen to me Crouch!" she hissed as she sent a frightening jolt of electrical energy into her patient's body. "You need to fight whatever is going on inside your head. I can't help you with this!" Crouch coughed noisily as he looked at Hermione with a sunken gaze, a gaze that could only mean a sharp dose of reality had hit home.  
  
"It's too late for me," Crouch gasped, his skin turning paler. "You must. . . tell Dumbledore that the Dark Lord. . . he's growing stronger. Stronger. . ." Crouch retreated into a coughing fit, his shaking hands trying and failing to reach his neck to soothe the pain. "It's all my fault."  
  
"You have to tell Dumbledore yourself," Hermione said soberly. "You have to hold on! The only way that you can die from this is if you let yourself die!"  
  
With incredible strain, Bartemius Crouch placed his left hand on Hermione's wrist, his ring finger just touching the base of her wand. Hermione repressed a shudder as she felt the clamminess of Crouch's skin and the slightest grip that Crouch had remaining. Ginny was sobbing frantically on Crouch's right side, her wand now lay forgotten on the dirty forest floor. Ron was torn between comforting his baby sister and continuing to stay rooted to the spot, his wand raised but not going to be used anytime soon.  
  
"You're a brave girl Granger," Crouch said while Hermione felt the slightest bit of strength in Crouch's grasp. "You. . . remind me of my son. . . just before. . . the Dark Lord." Crouch's pale hand slipped from Hermione's wrist and fell to the ground in an undignified crash. "My son. . .it's all my fault. . . all my fault. . ."  
  
A deathly sigh escaped from Crouch's throat as his body slowly slumped lower towards the true base of the tree that would serve as his deathbed. His head slumped to the side lazily, some of the hastily applied bandages beginning to rip and tear from the sudden movement. Hermione slowly ran her right hand through Crouch's fair, blood-soaked hair before resting at the man's temple. With a resigned sigh, she slid her hand down her face, shutting Bartemius Crouch's eyes to the world forevermore.  
  
'I should be crying right now,' she thought, her body remaining as motionless as Crouch. After all, it did seem like the most rational thing to do. A man had died today. She couldn't say that she admired the man, in fact everything that she had learned about him only made her want to despise him, but that man was dead. He was killed by a means so horrible and vile that sympathy just seemed natural.  
  
But she didn't feel sadness, not the slightest trace of it.  
  
She felt anger.  
  
Pure, undiluted, unfettered anger.  
  
Bartemius Crouch was dead because of her. Dead because she did not know enough. Dead because she didn't do everything she could.  
  
She failed.  
  
Hermione could feel her blood boiling as she slowly raised herself to her feet, a gaze upon her face so furiously determined that it might have made Voldemort himself think twice before troubling her. With long, even strides, Hermione moved out of the shade of the trees to the border of a small clearing, the slight heat of the spring sun beating down on her. A red field of energy surrounded her little body as she let her anger flow out of every vein, every pore of her body. A sheer amount of power the likes of which had not been seen in a hundred years was in the body of Hermione Granger as she unconsciously raised her arms above her head. Her body temperature had skyrocketed to nearly four times its normal rate as she gritted her teeth, her temples bulging and her normally pale flesh turning bright red from the strain. The surrounding trees and shrubbery were rustling about the Forbidden Forest, as if determined to get away from such a frightening force that not even nature could understand.  
  
Then, with an almost inhuman roar, a twenty-foot ball of fire shot out from Hermione's hands and hurtled into the sky like a wayward comet. Even Draco Malfoy, who stood a mile away from where Hermione was standing, felt the wave of heat wash over him as the fireball soared higher. The awe- inspiring sight attracted the eyes of everyone within a mile radius as it flew into the clouds, looking as if it would never stop. Ron and Ginny stared at Hermione with a disturbing mixture of shock and uncontrollable fear as the product of Hermione's anger now soared into the upper atmosphere.  
  
Dumbledore, Harry, Matt, and Snape were only fifty yards away from Hermione when it occurred. All four of them slid to a stop to watch the blistering bolt of fire blast emerge. Dumbledore grasped the hem of Matt and Harry's robes to prevent them from going any further, the headmaster's eyes still locked onto the forest and the scared, young woman who screamed within it. Snape, meanwhile, stared at the sphere of fire with an almost dull look on his face as it soared into the sky.  
  
"Hardly a little spitfire," Snape mumbled.  
  
"Holy shit," Matt murmured, not even paying attention to Dumbledore's tense grip on his robe. "That's near where we found Crouch!"  
  
"Hermione!!" Harry screamed as he violently broke Dumbledore's grip and dashed into the forest. He didn't care who the source of the fireball was, although he feared that he had a distinctly good idea at just who was the source. Whatever the case, he wasn't about to allow Hermione to go through this one alone.  
  
When Hermione Granger received her letter of acceptance to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she was thrilled that she would learn so many things. After all, it is a child's greatest dream to live in a world of magic and mystery, and a life at Hogwarts was as close to living a dream as one could get. As she stepped on the train at Platform 9 and ¾ for the very first time, she promised herself that she would learn everything there was to know about the wizarding world so that she could better understand her own, well, normal world.  
  
However, as she stared at her red, smoking hands as violent gusts of wind flew around her chaotically, she never thought she would learn anything like this. This wasn't like Macnair, where her new "gift" was used to protect the people she loved from harm. This was nothing more than an irresponsible burst of cathartic anger in a form quite unlike any other. It was uncontrolled, instinctual, and horrifying.  
  
She swerved around upon hearing the sound of footsteps behind her, quivering in fear over the seeming lack of control of her own body. That feeling only intensified when she saw that it was Harry that was dashing forward, a look of sheer sympathy on his face that nearly drove the young woman to tears upon sight of him. Matt was only a few steps behind Harry, a near mirror image of Harry's expression plastered on his face. They weren't scared of her, they were worried about her.  
  
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Hermione screamed as she shrunk away from Harry's grasp like a scalded dog. After all, it was only thirty seconds ago that her hands were scalding and smoking like a living oven. The sheer acknowledgment that her body could survive such bizarre conditions horrified her even more. She couldn't even hear the sympathetic words of her friends as she placed her hands to her temples, rubbing them furiously as if this were all just some bad dream that she'd wake up from anytime. This shouldn't be happening to her. She was Hermione Anne Granger, a simple Muggle-born witch. She was normal, this shouldn't be happening to her.  
  
She turned to look back at Ron and Ginny, both of whom were staring at her like newborn chicks. She hesitatingly took a step towards the two of them, only to see the two of them slinking backwards the moment she made a motion towards her. Ron and Virginia Weasley, two of her few friends, were staring at her like she was a monster.  
  
It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Like a dying soldier, Hermione dropped to her knees on the dirty, forest floor and cried her eyes out. All the shock, all the fear, and the last remnants of anger now flowed outward through her eyes and slid from her body. She could see Dumbledore lift Ron and Ginny off the ground as he told them to follow him to the infirmary while he cast a Mobilicorpus charm on Crouch. She could hear Snape's quiet voice telling her that she, Harry, and Matt would spend the night in his quarters. Most of all, she could feel Harry and Matt, who were now on the ground with her as they wrapped their arms around her shivering body.  
  
A minute ago, she was hotter than the brightest star. Now she needed the warmth of her friends to keep her from being cold.  
  
Professor Snape's living quarters displayed nothing that surprised Harry too much. It was a humble abode, a large stack of books piled high on an untidy book desk. There was no carpeting, just the feel of cool stone on his feet. The bed was made in such a matter that not too much or too little was spent on the deed. There was only one window in the room, standing above the professor's bed and shining a rather dismal light on his humble working area.  
  
None of the four occupants of Severus Snape's living quarters said a word throughout the afternoon. Professor Snape walked in and out of his room, continuing his scholarly business as if nothing had happened while Harry, Hermione, and Matt were huddled around a work table placed near a small, active fireplace, all of them in a desperate, and quite futile, attempt to do some studying. Every minute or so, either Harry, Matt, or both would look at Hermione with concern in their eyes and each time the young woman gave a glum smile before she went back to reading her book.  
  
Even as the four of them ate dinner in the dimly lit quarters, not a single word was said. The potions master had the house-elves make a modest meal for them but their efforts went mostly unappreciated. The three men all went at their food with undivided attention, much in the manner as the Durmstrang students would when Headmaster Karkaroff was around. Hermione simply poked at her food aimlessly, her unkempt hair occasionally swaying in front of her eyes, causing her to sigh before using her hands or her breath to remove the offending curl.  
  
All of them snapped out of their own thoughts when they heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. The door was opened slowly, as if the visitor was in no real hurry. Albus Dumbledore smoothed out his beard and a wrinkle in his robe before stepping into Snape's quarters. The amiable wizard's eyes made a brief gaze to the tiny window that tried its hardest to make Snape's room even the slightest bit more cheerful. With a patient shaking of his head, he slowly made his way to the makeshift dinner table where the four of them ate.  
  
"I have contacted Arthur Weasley and informed the Ministry of Crouch's death," Dumbledore stated softly. "We both agreed that this news would best be spread on a wider forum than The Daily Prophet. Professor Moody is still touring the grounds looking for any one responsible." A briefest flicker of a smile appeared on Dumbledore's face. "The old man is having the most fun he's had at Hogwarts so far, I dare say."  
  
Matt, out of appreciation for Dumbledore's attempt to brighten the mood, gave a quiet chuckle. The others remained silent.  
  
"What about Ginny and Ron?" asked Harry, his voice hoarse and muted from lack of use.  
  
"Professor McGonagall is seeing to them," he answered, frowning a bit at the sheer looks of dismay on his students' faces. "They've been through quite an ordeal as well. Give them some time to recover."  
  
Upon seeing that nobody else seemed to want to contribute to the conversation, Dumbledore simply shrugged and went about his next order of business.  
  
"Miss Delacour and the others are all safely back at Hogwarts. Professor Karkaroff has been making shouts of conspiracy and wants to take his students back to Durmstrang, but it seems that the good Mister Krum has matters well in hand on that end." Once again, no one gave even the slightest hint of responding to Dumbledore's statements, except for when Snape gave a deep sigh after finishing his second glass of Chablis. Unperturbed by the quiet response, Dumbledore took a seat beside Harry.  
  
"Your minds are burdened by many things, my students." Dumbledore's voice did not even carry the slightest hint of his normal amiable behavior. Perhaps it was that which caused them to snap to attention and look at the headmaster of Hogwarts and the hero to the wizarding world. "You, Mister Potter, do not know what your future holds in store for you and you are afraid to find out for you also fear that you will not like the outcome. You fear for the lives of your friends and loved ones because you don't know if you can protect them from the storm that you know is coming. As for you, Miss Granger, you are suffering from your lack of knowledge, of understanding. You've always gone into everything you do two steps in front of everyone else and now you're walking blind. Destiny has thrown you something that you have no knowledge of, no way to truly control it or combat it. Most of all, you have been given something that you cannot face on your own and that frightens you. And you, Mister McGonagall, your problems are a mixture of the two. You wish to protect your loved ones but you have no idea how. You push away those that would be your friends and family while at the same time pulling them closer."  
  
All three students gave a reluctant nod at the wise wizard, causing Dumbledore to perk up a bit as he rose to his feet.  
  
"Perhaps your minds will be best relieved if you look into the mind of another," said Dumbledore as he beckoned Harry, Hermione, Matt, and Snape to follow him.  
  
"Where are we going, Professor Dumbledore?" Snape asked, as they reached the door to leave Snape's quarters.  
  
"Back to my office," replied Dumbledore before turning back sharply and continued to lead the way. "There is something that all of you need to see."  
  
Matt had never been to Dumbledore's office save for the very short trip earlier in the day, and he was quite impressed with what he saw. It was a stunning, circular room that looked to be much larger than it actually was, lavishly decorated with colorful carpets on the floors and pictures of the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts on the wall. Some of the men and women in the living drawings even said hello or offered a polite wave as Matt and his friends made their way to the center of the room. A loud caw broke through the room as Fawkes rose from his golden perch beside the door and made the short flight to the three students. Matt had heard rumors that Dumbledore had owned a phoenix and he had to pet the glowing bird a few times to prove it true to himself. The warmth given off by the scarlet and gold plumage of the phoenix combined with the safety and security that swirled around Dumbledore's office like a wonderful shroud seemed to settle him down a bit as Dumbledore and Snape fiddled with something at the center of the room.  
  
Where Dumbledore's ornate work desk once was now stood a light-gray stone basin. Odd carvings adorned the broad sides of the bizarre structure. They were runes and arcane symbols that not even Hermione could hope to recognize. The three of them watched as Dumbledore would occasionally draw out his wand and place the tip of it to the middle of his forehead. As soon as he removed the wand, a thin stream of silver light would pour from the wand and into the basin.  
  
"What. . . what is that?" Matt mumbled as Harry continued to watch on, absently continuing to pet Fawkes.  
  
"A pensieve," Hermione whispered as they all moved closer to it.  
  
The basin's contents seemed to flow gently and constantly as Dumbledore continued to add more of the peculiar substance into it. It was silvery-white in color, clear but murky at the same time. As the three young students peered into the pensieve, Severus Snape grunted a bit and backed away from it, his work apparently done. Harry half-expected to see the pensieve start to bubble wildly and for three witches to come circling by on their brooms screeching about toil and trouble. Dumbledore gave the three of them a bit of time to stare in wonder at the contents of the pensieve before elaborating.  
  
"You are correct Miss Granger, as is often the case," Dumbledore said as he strode up to stand at the opposite side of the basin. "This is indeed a pensieve. It is a device that many wizards use when we find that we have too many thoughts and memories crammed into our enfeebled minds. A sensation that I'm sure all of you have felt at one time or another?" Each of the students grumbled an assent to Dumbledore's assumption.  
  
"But why do you want us to see this?" Harry asked, struggling to choose between looking at Dumbledore and looking into the pensieve.  
  
"As I stated before," Dumbledore responded, as he placed his long hands on the intriguing instrument, "I felt that it would be good for your minds to witness the struggles of another mind. To clear things up, as the old saying goes." Now all three of them looked up from the pensieve, each of them clearly have no idea what Dumbledore was talking about.  
  
"Place your wands at the center of the pensieve," Dumbledore instructed kindly. "It is time that the three of you witness some of the events that bring us to this place and time."  
  
As Harry and Matt both looked at one another in trepidation, Hermione calmly pulled out her wand from her robe pocket and placed the tip of it in the turbulent waters of the pensieve. Harry and Matt couldn't help but shockingly stare at their bushy-haired friend while Dumbledore gave a little laugh.  
  
"The pensieve will only work if all who need to see it see it together," Dumbledore said, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. Not wanting Hermione to upstage them, Harry and Matt both hurriedly placed their own wands into the pensieve.  
  
As soon as Harry's wand (his arms were shorter than Matt's) was immersed in the silvery liquid, the back of the room seemed to lurch forward violently, causing each of the students to be pitched headlong into the pensieve itself. Logic told the three of them that such a thing could not be happening, but it seemed that their eyes wanted to disagree with them. All of them braced for impact as they each expected to crash into the bottom of the pensieve. It took only a half a second until they all realized that they were dropping into something else, something that none of them could describe with words. It seemed icy-cold and black, but comforting and soothing at the same time, an unsettling mixture of cascading contradictions swirling about them before their bodies finally came to a stop.  
  
The three of them unceremoniously crashed into a dimly lit room that was bustling with whispers and shouts. Two long rows of wooden benches were placed in the middle of the room, all of them packed with bustling witches and wizards. A worn, empty chair stood in the center of one of the far corners of the room. The amount of attention that was paid to it by the room's occupants made it obvious that it was going to play an important role in whatever was taking place. The borders of the chair were surrounded by thick chains, which gave the strange seat an even greater feeling of foreboding.  
  
"Where are we?" Harry whispered.  
  
"It's a public inquisition room," Matt said as he slowly guided his friends forward. "A courtroom to judge higher-level wizard crimes."  
  
Hermione's eyes were darting about the room, seemingly wanting to take in as much as possible. It perturbed her a bit that she couldn't recognize a single person inside the courtroom save for the two wizards that came along with her, no matter how hard she racked her brain. However, that soon changed as the three of them neared the front row and found Albus Dumbledore sitting calmly at the far side of the bench.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry squawked as Hermione moved to try and stop him. "What is going on? Why are we here?" Dumbledore didn't respond to Harry's somewhat frantic inquiries. The affable headmaster of Hogwarts just continued to gaze forward, awaiting the events to come just as many of the other magicians were.  
  
"Wait a minute, Harry!" Hermione said as Harry began to call to Dumbledore once again. "It won't do any good."  
  
"Why not?" Matt asked.  
  
"I read about this in 'The Secrets of the Pensieve'," she lectured calmly. "We've just been placed in one of Dumbledore's memories. Something that we either can't remember or was not around for. To everyone in this court room, we don't exist." Hermione amplified her point by waving her hands in front of a rather heavy-set wizard chatting angrily with his wife. Neither the wizard or the witch responded to her actions in the slightest form.  
  
"So why are we here?" Harry asked, turning his attention to the front of the courtroom.  
  
"To watch," Matt said as he took a seat on the wooden floor of the courtroom. "I wonder if I can get a program to find out just who's being interrogated?"  
  
"Doubtful," answered Hermione as she and Harry took their own seats beside the Ravenclaw. All eyes were now focused on the heavy, metal double- doors on the opposite corner of the "confession chair," as Matt had called it. As soon as the door opened, a potent wave of fear seemed to waft through the room causing Matt and Hermione to shiver a bit. Harry, however, knew the source of this fear all too well and it caused his heart to nearly sink into his liver.  
  
A pair of hooded dementors swept into the courtroom, their faces and bodies concealed with long robes that brushed the tidy floors of the courtroom with every step they made. The only portion of their body not covered by their cloak was their hands, which were horrifyingly pale, warped, and rotten. The hands of the dementors were clasped to the shaking arms of a middle-aged man with messy, black hair and a ragged goatee that looked as if it hadn't been maintained properly for weeks. The man was shaking from head to toe, although whether that was from either the man's own fear or the terrifying power that the dementors could have over the human mind, no one could really say for certain.  
  
"Igor Karkaroff," Matt almost announced.  
  
The future Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute was clearly a long ways away from his days of wearing elaborate furs and being pampered by any number of Bulgarian veela house workers. His tattered, wizard robes had numerous holes and tears and was filthy with dirt and sweat. His tattoo on his upper bicep of his left hand that signified his allegiance as a Death Eater was on full display in the interrogation room, causing some of the magicians in the front rows to whisper urgently and point at the tattoo.  
  
The dementors forced Karkaroff into the foreboding-looking seat with little trouble, as was often the case. Karkaroff, indeed, was in no position to adequately defend himself from such monstrosities. The chains circling the arms of the seat, acting as if on some unknown order, snaked their way up Karkaroff's arms, effectively binding him to the spot.  
  
"Well then Mister Karkaroff," a curt voice said to Hermione's left side. The students turned to the corner of the room to see Bartemius Crouch standing up from the same bench that Dumbledore was seated upon. Unlike Karkaroff, Crouch looked significantly better at this point than he did at the Triwizard Tournament. His hair did not have the slightest hint of gray and his face was quite handsome even in the drab lights of the interrogation room. However, the biggest change was in Crouch's eyes. They were filled with fire, a fire burning with determination to a cause, not the near-manic glint that was on his eyes in the Forbidden Forest or in the photographs of The Daily Prophet.  
  
Crouch continued on. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us."  
  
"Information?" Hermione inquired, looking at Matt.  
  
"Karkaroff's gonna rat out some of his partners from the looks of it," Matt said as he nearly growled at him. "No wonder the Death Eaters are so teed off at him."  
  
"How on earth could Karkaroff become headmaster of such an established wizarding institution after all of this?" Harry asked.  
  
"There's always been rumors that Durmstrang assisted Voldemort's forces in Eastern Europe during the latter part of the war." Hermione whispered hastily, a little too happy to finally have an answer pertaining to what was going on. "Nothing was proven, of course, but the suspicion has always been there." By the time the students turned back to the inquisition, Karkaroff had just concluded a disturbingly self-serving plea of mercy, a plea that made Crouch turn up his face in anger.  
  
"You must understand," Karkaroff said hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy." It was clear that Karkaroff was still stalling for suspense. "He preferred that we. . . er. . his supporters, which I regret to say that I was at one time."  
  
"Get on with it," sneered a voice behind them. The three wizards all turned around to see a steaming Alastor Moody sitting behind Dumbledore, clearly enjoying Karkaroff's struggles despite his frustration. There were significantly fewer scars on the Auror's face and his magical eye did not appear to be necessary as of yet. The sight of Alastor Moody with his two normal eyes was quite unusual to Harry, as if it made him look like a completely different person.  
  
"So Moody's here too. . ." Matt said as he turned back to the questioning.  
  
"That makes sense," Hermione said as she turned around as well. "Moody probably caught Karkaroff himself." Harry spent a few lingering moments still staring at Moody, who now appeared to be arguing with Dumbledore about something that his ears couldn't quite catch.  
  
"What are the names?" Crouch asked sharply, clearly wanting nothing more to do with Karkaroff's panic-driven antics.  
  
"There was Antonin Dolohov," Karkaroff started. "He tortured countless Muggles at Voldemort's camp in Dublin. I believe he was undercover as a schoolteacher. Such a horrible fellow."  
  
"So horrible that I'd wager that Karkaroff assisted him with the efforts," Matt grumbled in a voice quite similar to Moody's. Crouch, in contrast, seemed more than happy to inform Karkaroff that Dolohov had already been captured by Frank Longbottom and Amos Diggory and was sent to Azkaban. Karkaroff paled significantly at Crouch's smug demeanor as the dementors seemed to inch closer, almost biting at their nips.  
  
"That's one strike," Harry murmured. Matt and Hermione both nodded.  
  
"There was. . . erm. . . Evan Rosier."  
  
"Rosier is dead," said Crouch. "He was caught shortly after you were. Unlike you, he preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."  
  
"Tough bastard," Moody grumbled in almost a respectful manner. "He took a bit of me with him." Harry watched as Moody leaned to one side and showed a hideous scar to Dumbledore where half of his nose once was. Hermione and Matt still continued to watch Karkaroff, who now seemed to be staring at the dementors while trying not to pass out.  
  
"Any others?" Crouch asked, his arms crossed and his eyes glowing in anticipation.  
  
"Yes!" Karkaroff cried, all thoughts of showmanship and suspense now thrown out the window. "There was Travers! He helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber! He specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced people to do horrible things! There's Rockwood! He was a spy in the Ministry!"  
  
Karkaroff's nervous ramblings were clearly doing their damage, as Crouch motioned to a secretary sitting on the front bench, who began to write away furiously on a small notepad.  
  
"Well then," said Mr. Crouch, obviously a bit disappointed that Karkaroff did indeed have some useful information, "if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide your fate."  
  
"I wonder why Dumbledore sent us here?" Matt asked.  
  
"What do you mean, Matt?" said Harry. Matt shrugged his shoulders and looked at his two Gryffindor companions.  
  
"Well, so Karkaroff snitched off his friends to get released from Azkaban. That's all well and good, but what does that have to do with us?"  
  
"Wait!" Karkaroff cried, his desperation not fading in the slightest. "I have another!" Harry, Hermione, and Matt all steered their eyes back to Karkaroff.  
  
"Snape!" Karkaroff shouted, the name causing many of the courtroom's occupants to murmur excitably. "Severus Snape!"  
  
Hermione gasped alongside must of the courtroom. Matt continued to look at Karkaroff with unabashed hatred.  
  
"So that's why Snape hates Karkaroff!" Matt grumbled as he cracked his knuckles as if he was ready to attack. "He tried to rat him out!"  
  
"Snape has been cleared by this council," Crouch said with disgust. "Dumbledore's testimony was proof enough of Snape's innocence."  
  
"No!" Karkaroff shouted, the heavy chains crashing into the hard wood of the interrogation chair as he strained against them. "Snape is a Death Eater! I am certain!"  
  
"Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, Mister Karkaroff," Dumbledore said while rising to his feet. "However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and acquired information upon the Dark Lord that saved dozens of lives at great personal risk. He is no more a Death Eater than I am."  
  
Harry and Hermione both looked at Matt expectantly. Matt just winked at them and smirked arrogantly.  
  
"Well, that explains why we're here," Harry said as he stood up along with many of the occupants of the courtroom. Karkaroff was already being escorted back to Azkaban by the dementors and nobody really seemed to be paying any attention to them as they filed out of the courtroom.  
  
"Yes," Hermione spoke as she dusted herself off. "Of course, the next question is," she continued as a large hole appeared several feet above the students' heads.  
  
"Where are we going next?" Hermione finished as they were sucked into the portal and carried to another memory of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Despite quite a bit of effort, none of the young wizards could avoid crashing in a heap once arriving at their second memory. Harry groaned in frustration as he rubbed his temples, quite a bit perturbed that he had nearly fallen on his head once again.  
  
"I wonder if we can get a parachute for the next time?" Harry quipped as he rose to his feet. Neither Matt or Hermione chose to respond to him.  
  
"Where are we now?" Hermione inquired as she ran her hands through her messy, brown hair.  
  
"Another day, the same interrogation room from the looks of it," Matt said as he made his way to the front. Indeed, quite a bit of remodeling had been done in this supposed den of justice, but it didn't appear to be any less gloomy or menacing. The same chair stood in the corner of the room and the huge metal double-doors stood as proud as ever. A different judge was presiding in this case but the prosecutor was still the same. Bartemius Crouch still looked much the same as he did at Karkaroff's inquisition, albeit with some dark circles around his eyes and fewer pounds in the gut. What truly attracted Matt, however, was the sight of a fair- haired wizard wearing very familiar magenta robes and scribbling away with a Quick Quotes Quill.  
  
"I'll be damned," Matt said, twisting up his face as he took in the sight of a rookie reporter named Rita Skeeter. "I wonder if I can set fire to her."  
  
"Kindly cease your vandalistic tendencies until a later time," Hermione said coolly, her familiar mood starting to return.  
  
"I wonder if I can bum an aspirin off Dumbledore," Harry asked as he spotted Albus Dumbledore seated at the same place on the same bench as before.  
  
"Let's just stick to the business at hand," Hermione said resignedly as she took a seat on the dusty, wooden floor. The wizards that were seated in the courtroom, with the exception of Dumbledore and Alastor Moody, were quite a different mix from the depressing lot that were here for the Karkaroff questioning. Some of the wizards weren't even wearing their robes, opting instead for typical Muggle shirt and long shorts sets. It was if the people of the courtroom were preparing for a picnic. . . or a show.  
  
The double doors slid open and Ludo Bagman walked into the room. No dementors held his arms as he strode confidently to the chair that so frightened Karkaroff. This was not the portly Ludo Bagman that announced the Triwizard Tournament with such melodrama and child-like zeal, but a fetching man in his early-thirties. Bagman had a tall, lean, and muscular frame that drew its fair share of female admirers in the courtroom. Hermione clucked in disapproval as Bagman gave a young lady a friendly wave before seating himself into the chair. The chains on the sides of the chair did not snake around Bagman, much to the Quidditch star's relief. Crouch watched in utter revulsion as Bagman entertained the crowd like a trainer puppeteer before rising from the bench dramatically as the judge pounded his gavel.  
  
"Ludovic Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," Crouch began. "We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?"  
  
"So we're at Bagman's trial," Hermione said. "This was just about fifteen years ago, if I recall correctly."  
  
"It's almost like a circus," Harry muttered, staring at the audience. Harry spied a child who looked to be no older than eight wearing a mock Wimbourne Wasps uniform. A woman who appeared to be the boy's mother picked him up and pointed out Bagman in the crowd, speaking about him in reverent tones. Unlike the atmosphere with Karkaroff, it was obvious that the people clustered in the courtroom hoped that the accused would be set free. Of course, whether that was because of Bagman's athletic talents or because he was truly innocent of what he was accused of remained to be seen. Either way, Harry didn't like it too much. Harry jerked his head away from the crowd behind him when Bagman began clearing his throat.  
  
"Well," Bagman began, his voice seemingly a professional mix of good- natured brevity and bashfulness, "I know I've been a bit of an idiot."  
  
Quite a few of the people in attendance laughed at Bagman's humorous admission. Bartemius Crouch was not one of them. He drowned out the titters of the audience as he crossed his arms and stared at Bagman with a near malicious gaze. Dumbledore, meanwhile, continued to look at Bagman with a rather placid look on his face, the same look he had on his face when he was looking at a bat or a snail.  
  
"Bagman's trying to charm his way out of imprisonment," Hermione whispered, a look on her face a slightly milder version of Crouch's thinly veiled anger. "I wouldn't be surprised if he actually did do it."  
  
"Did what?" Harry asked.  
  
"Just watch," Hermione instructed, gesturing to the front of the courtroom with a nod of her head.  
  
"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," said Crouch. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than. . ."  
  
Crouch's emphatic speech was abruptly cut short by numerous angry shouts from the crowd behind him. Many began to boo Crouch while others even suggested that it was Crouch who belonged in Azkaban. Hermione, looking at the scene with abject horror, shook her head in exasperation.  
  
"As Voltaire once said," Matt said with a bit of mirth, "there's nothing worse than hecklers at a trial."  
  
"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called out, shushing the angry crowd with a single gesture of his hands. "None at all! Old Rockwood was a friend of my dad's. It never crossed my mind that he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rockwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on. . . once my Quidditch days are over, you know. After all," Bagman added, a charming smile appearing on his round face, "I can't keep getting hit Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"  
  
Much of the court audience roared with laughter, causing Crouch to grit his teeth and the judge to continuously pound his table with the gavel.  
  
"The matter will now be put to the vote," Crouch said once the clamor in the courtroom had finally calmed down. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon towards the jury. The look Crouch gave to them seemed to hold the same fierce determination of the past, but it also had a bit of pleading within it. "Will the members of the jury in favor of imprisonment please raise their hands."  
  
Harry, Hermione, and Matt were not the least bit surprised to see that not a single one of them raised their hand. Nearly the entire courtroom exploded with applause and cheers as an angry Bartemius Crouch made his way back to the bench.  
  
"Don't look like it can get any worse for old Barty," Matt said whimsically. Just as he said that however, the forewoman of the jury rose from her seat and called for attention.  
  
"On behalf of the rest of the jury," the kindly old-woman stated, "I'd like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday." Even more applause flooded the room as Crouch looked ready to explode due to his pent-up anger.  
  
"Spoke too soon," Matt mumbled as Harry and Hermione once again stared at him expectantly. "I have to stop doing that."  
  
"Despicable," Crouch whispered harshly, sitting down next to Dumbledore and Moody. The prosecutor didn't even bother to watch as Bagman walked out of the courtroom with his arms upraised and his legion of fans flocking behind him. "Rockwood get him a job indeed. The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day for the Ministry!"  
  
Just as Dumbledore began to console Crouch, a smoky portal materialized above the students' heads. All three of them noticed it this time as they were ushered into it. Like in many instances involving unfamiliar experiences, the three wizards were slowly adapting to the black void that seemed to guide them from memory to memory.  
  
"Wonder where we're off to next, Harry?" Matt said as he thrust his arms out as far as they could go, pretending to fly through the bizarre passageway.  
  
"You're guess is as good as mine," answered Harry.  
  
"With any luck," Hermione said, her arms seemingly strapped to her sides, "this next one will give us a little more information."  
  
"I don't know," Matt said as he jokingly began to backstroke through the void. "I thought the last two trials told us quite a bit. Certainly told us more than we knew before."  
  
"Karkaroff's hearing was fine," continued Hermione, "but we already knew that Bagman was a git. We could have figured that out just by looking at them."  
  
The three of them were soon once again dropped into another pocket of the pensieve. This time, two of the students were able to land safely while one of them was not so lucky.  
  
"Watch that first step, Hermy," Matt said with a wry grin, "it's a doozy!"  
  
"Shut up," Hermione grumbled as Harry helped her to her feet. "Looks like we're back in the interrogation room," she resolved, her head shifting from side to side.  
  
"Doesn't seem as friendly as it was with Bagman either," Matt said cautiously as he led the way back to their now usual seats. The benches were crowded with witches and wizards, even more so than during the Bagman trial. However, this time the benches were filled with stone-faced men and women, many of them wearing the traditional Auror uniforms. Harry even managed to spot Amos Diggory in the crowd, a look on his stern face not quite unlike what he saw when he accused Harry of performing the Morsmordre spell after the World Cup. The deathly silence that ran about was only broken by the heaping sobs of a frail witch in the seat next to Bartemius Crouch.  
  
Crouch himself looked particularly frightening. The circles in his eyes at the Bagman trial seemed to spread out throughout his entire face, giving it a horrifying gaunt look about it, as if Crouch hadn't slept right in years. Significant tufts of gray had crept into Crouch's black roots, making him look far older than the forty-one year old should have been. The temples on his forehead seemed to be bulging outward, as if they were ready to push out from the brain from all the pressure.  
  
"Bring them in."  
  
The steel double-doors swung open once again, the crash that the doors made upon meeting with the stonewalls seemingly shaking the courtroom itself. Four magicians dressed in prisoner garb walked in, chained to one another. A half-dozen dementors, holding the chains together like a posthumous honor guard, surrounded them. Upon seeing the faces of the four on trial, Matt's face went pale, his throat suddenly drying and his hazel eyes wide with surprise.  
  
"What is it?" Hermione hissed as Harry looked on.  
  
"I don't recognize the thin one," Matt said as the dementors escorted the prisoners to their seats. "But I do know the other three."  
  
"And?" Harry asked.  
  
"The big one is Ryan Lestrange," Matt said, his eyes now locked on the youngest of the prisoners. "The woman is Crystal Lestrange, and the boy. . . the boy. . ."  
  
"My God," Hermione muttered, her hands balling up into fists as she placed them under her lips.  
  
"Crouch!" Harry shouted.  
  
If there was any greater example of someone looking like a deer in the headlights than Bartemius Crouch Jr. this night, the three of them would have been quite surprised. Barty's tear-stained sky blue eyes were unblinking, like some kind of ragged doll, and remained focused on his father. The dementors nearly had to push Crouch towards his chair, visibly reveling in the fear and turmoil within the young man. His skin was as pale as milk, his bright freckles poking outward from his face making his face look hideously splotchy. The tiny, cowering witch, whom Harry now realized was the mother of the child, rocked back in forth at the bench madly, not having the strength to look at either her son or her husband.  
  
"Look at her," Hermione said, as she stood up to touch Rosalind Crouch's shuddering shoulders. Her hands simply swept through the poor woman's body. "No wonder she passed away so soon after this."  
  
"I'm more concerned about the father," Harry said. Indeed, the look of disgust that Crouch had in his eyes was now multiplied a hundred-fold. Harry was truly beginning to see the resemblance between Crouch and the near-dead man they found in the forest.  
  
"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," Crouch said clearly, "so that we may pass judgment on you for your heinous activities!"  
  
"Father," the child pleaded, his arms shaking despite the grasp of the inquisition stools. "Please!"  
  
"We have heard the evidence against you," the elder Crouch continued, not even bothering to acknowledge his child's pleas. "The four of you stand accused of the brutal assault of Frank and Nancy Longbottom. You are further accused of subjecting these honored members of the wizard community to the illegal Cruciatus Curse, believing them to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"  
  
"Father, I didn't" the younger Crouch nearly shrieked, the chains now giving quite a bit of strain toward the boy's impotent struggling. "I didn't, I swear it, Father, don't send me back to the dementors."  
  
"You are further accused of attempting to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named to power," Crouch bellowed, the sheer volume and magnitude in his voice causing Matt to wince and cover his ears, "in an effort to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. The jury will now announce its' verdict."  
  
"Mother!" the boy screamed. "Please stop him! I didn't do it! It wasn't me!"  
  
"Dear God," Hermione murmured, her brown eyes beginning to well with tears. Harry found Hermione's right hand and grasped it tenderly. Matt just continued to look on, his eyes glued to the complete destruction of a proud wizard name.  
  
"You can see the entire Crouch family dying right in front of us," Matt whispered.  
  
"I now ask the jury," Crouch announced, not a hint of wavering within his voice, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"  
  
Every witch and wizard rose their hands without a moment of thought. A roar of applause erupted from the throng of Aurors on the right side of the courtroom. The left row of benches also cheered, although some of the common wizard folk looked at the younger Crouch pitifully.  
  
As the dementors strode forward to gather up the prisoners and return them to Azkaban, the female prisoner stood up, not even heeding the supposed indomitable chains. Many members of the courtroom murmured with shock while some of the Aurors even drew their wands.  
  
"The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch!" Crystal Lestrange cried defiantly, speaking to the iron-hearted prosecutor with shocking confidence and certainty. "Throw my husband and I in Azkaban! We'll be happy to wait for our master's uprising!" The female Death Eater looked back at her husband, who gave her a filthy, splendid grin. "He will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"  
  
The rest of the lady's speech was drowned out with boos and various threats of bodily harm. Crystal Lestrange just looked at the Aurors as if they were simple specks of dirt.  
  
"I heard a lot of rumors about Crystal Lestrange," Matt said as he whistled in appreciation, "but I never expected anything like this."  
  
"Look at the strength in her eyes!" said Hermione.  
  
The young Barty Crouch, however, was hardly as calm as the Lestranges. The young man struggled madly to keep away from the grasp of the dementors.  
  
"I'm your son!" he screamed at his father. "I'm your son!"  
  
"You are no son of mine!" bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging. "As far as I'm concerned, I have no son!"  
  
A thin trickle of snot from the child's nose slid down the left side of his lips, his body surrendering as the dementors took hold of him and dragged his away. The father of the child continued to scream madly, denying having anything to do with his own son. The entire scene simply horrified Harry, Hermione, and Matt, like a nightmare that they couldn't get out of.  
  
"Easy does it," a quiet voice said from beyond the pensieve. "There's only one more to go. Be strong, children."  
  
None of them acknowledged Dumbledore's reassurances with words. They all simply nodded as another vortex appeared above them and dragged them off. A short trip through the void soon dropped them off at their final destination. This time, it was Matt who was unfortunate enough to land on his butt.  
  
"Watch that first step, Matt," Hermione chided, "it's a doozy."  
  
"I refuse to comment to such immaturity!" Matt said haughtily as he hefted himself up, dusting his robes off as he went along. It was apparent at first sight that they had not returned to the courtroom. The three of them were standing on a humble, cobblestone road that was littered with the occasional scrap of paper or the forgotten remnants of a meal. A light smattering of traffic noises seemed to accompany them as they proceeded down what appeared to be a side alley. The friendly glow of the streetlights seemed to follow them as they pulled away from the roads, not quite knowing where they were going but quite certain they were going in the right direction. As Matt's pricked up at the sound of a sewer rat upturning a garbage can, Harry grasped his shoulders and swung him to one side, his hands pointing into the horizon.  
  
"I thought that you would only show them what occurred in the trials? What is the meaning of this?" Snape said as he hastily rose from his chair and stomped toward the pensieve. He had already taken to see that their physical bodies were safe shortly after their minds had poured into the penseive. Snape had simply presumed that the three trials would be shown, he never expected for something else. Simply put, Snape was becoming worried for the three students' safety, although he would never admit it.  
  
"This is for your eyes as well, Severus," Dumbledore said as he continued to stare into the murky material within the pensieve. "You must remember, however, that you are not to share what I am about to show you to anyone. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Dumbledore's suddenly authoritative tone took Snape aback a bit, surprised to see such a firm and solid order from the kindly headmaster. Instead of arguing the point, Severus placed his pale hands on the edge of the pensieve and stared inside without a word.  
  
"Look, it's Big Ben!"  
  
Indeed, the magnificent clock tower that seemed to signify the magisterial glory of London was ticking away as patiently as ever. It also was kind enough to tell them it was one o'clock. It was also safe to say that due to the sight of the full moon high above them, it was one o'clock in the morning.  
  
"So we're in London," Matt said as he placed his thumb on his chin in a vaguely Snape-like fashion. "Question is, why are we here?"  
  
"Look over there," Hermione said as she began to cautiously walk into a dark recess that drifted from the main alleyway. As Harry and Matt followed the bushy-haired Gryffindor, they were both sorely tempted to cast a Lumos spell before remembering that their wands were still held by their physical bodies, no use to them in the confines of the pensieve. After spending a good minute of searching through a network of dark alleyways, the three wizards finally reached their destination.  
  
An open grate spurted out a healthy portion of steam from one of London's many sewer ways, covering the dead end with a shroud. A man leaned against a brick wall casually, as if waiting for someone to arrive. The man wore a beige trench coat wrapped around his body and a matching fedora that completely covered his face from view. The unknown fellow looked at his watch with impatience and began whistling a little tune that none of them could recognize.  
  
The impromptu musical performance was interrupted with the familiar sound of a racing broom lowering to the ground. The rider was wearing a night-black cloak over his dark green Quidditch robes, his long, blond hair fluttering about in the breeze. The man's chiseled face seemed to be a mask of superiority as he lowered himself to the ground, his blue eyes gleaming.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry spat.  
  
Lucius Malfoy stepped off his racing broom in an absurdly melodramatic fashion as he smoothed out a lonely wrinkle in his fur-trimmed cloak. With a practiced motion, the Death Eater held the middle of the levitating broom with his well-manicured hand, causing it to go slack in his firm grip. Malfoy kept the same smug expression as he pulled his wand out of his robes and cast a Reducio charm on his broom. After placing both the broom and the wand in his side pocket, Malfoy gave the trench coat wearing man a once over, seemingly trying to hold back a look of disgust.  
  
"What a truly ridiculous get-up," Malfoy spat. "I dare say that the mere sight of you is a speck of mud on my boots."  
  
"Forgive me," the man said in a tone that obviously meant otherwise. "I've always had a soft spot for Casablanca. Wonderful acting."  
  
"Spare me," Malfoy drawled coldly. "Let's just get on with our business."  
  
"Couldn't agree more. The sooner I get away from you the better I'll feel." Malfoy sneered as he marched to the man, stopping just inches from the man's shrouded face.  
  
"You listen to me," Malfoy said, his voice dripping with venom. "The only reason that you remain alive to this day is because my master chooses for you to be alive."  
  
"And who would be my killer?" Trench Coat asked dully, prodding a finger onto Malfoy's broad chest. "You're a little too prissy and sheltered to be doing such a dirty deed. Always hiding behind Avery and Goyle back in school. Probably the same way now, I imagine."  
  
"Shut up," Malfoy whispered, nearly shaking with fury.  
  
"Of course, you always had a penchant for picking on people smaller than you," Trench Coat drawled, twisting his finger like the blade of a knife. "Maybe you should find some school children and torture them for a while. From what I heard in Reykjavik, that appears to be all you're good for anymore."  
  
Malfoy leaped back from the man like an angry wolf, pulling his wand out of his hand with one sloppy motion. Trench Coat simply folded his index finger back into his fist and folded his arms impatiently.  
  
"Perhaps you need a lesson in just who holds the power!" Lucius bellowed as the tip of his wand glowed a violent shade of red. "Stupefy!"  
  
A red bolt of light shot out of Malfoy's wand and made a screaming path towards its victim. Harry and Matt both instinctively rushed towards the man to warn him but Trench Coat did not even move as it hurtled towards him. Then, just as the vicious shot was within inches of his chest, the hex smashed into some invisible barrier, scattering the particles of light like harmless specks of dust.  
  
Before Malfoy could even react, a hand was on his throat and Trench Coat lifted him several feet into the air. Like he was holding a newborn child, Trench Coat slammed the fair-haired Slytherin into the brick wall, his covered face looming just inches from Malfoy's.  
  
"Now you listen to me you little troll," Trench Coat sneered menacingly as Malfoy tried his best not to quiver in fear. "I'm not a kid you can just bully around like you did back in our old school days anymore. I've grown up a bit, and so have my talents. Although I wish I could say the same about you, it seems that you just bummed a free ride off old Voldemort. Like I said before, very typical of you." With a snap of his fingers, Malfoy's wand flew out of the death eater's inert hands and flew into Trench Coat's extended left hand, his right hand still maintaining a death grip on Malfoy's throat.  
  
"Never try and threaten someone better than you," Trench Coat said coolly as he touched Malfoy's sweating forehead with the tip of the wand.  
  
"I think I've seen enough," grumbled another voice.  
  
Harry and Hermione both froze at the sound of the voice. Matt's brow began to furrow as his shoulders began to tense and the muscles in his neck began to strain outwards. Trench Coat, meanwhile, simply threw Malfoy's wand to the ground calmly and looked at the newest visitor.  
  
"I was wondering when you'd make yourself known," Trench Coat said sharply as he leaned back against the brick wall next to a petrified Malfoy. "I was getting bored playing with the second stringers, Macnair."  
  
"My apologies, Mister Pettigrew," the hulking executioner said as he emerged from the shadows. The Macnair of fifteen years ago was quite different from the Macnair that hunted them today. There didn't seem to be an inch of fat on the assassin's body, his massive arms and towering legs looking as if they had been borrowed from a Spartan god. The blond hair was not messy, but closely cropped and well trimmed, making Macnair look much like a fitness model. However, those eyes, the eyes that reeked of power, of hatred, of bloodlust, had the same eerie glow as they had in the present day.  
  
If Pettigrew was even intimidated in the slightest from Macnair's impressive form, he didn't show it in the least. He too was quite different from the sniveling, sobbing mass that Harry met at the Shrieking Shack just ten months ago. He was hardly as physically impressive as Macnair or even Malfoy, but there was something in the way Pettigrew moved, the way he responded to Macnair, that seemed to make up for the unimpressive physique. His straw-blond hair seemed fully intact, not thinning in the slightest, as he removed his fedora and placed it on Malfoy's frozen head with a smirk. His face was still a bit chubby, an obvious indication that he hadn't lost all of his baby fat, but his dark- blue eyes were not watery, but calm and steady.  
  
"I'd like to know why you've called me to visit you here," Pettigrew said turning his body to meet Macnair. "I do have appointments that I need to keep."  
  
"Perfectly understandable, Pettigrew," Macnair said, speaking to the Marauder as if they were sitting down for a cup of coffee. "I'm certain that you will find what I have to say most interesting."  
  
"If I didn't know any better, I would think you were about to make me an offer."  
  
"You're quite on your game tonight," Macnair said grinning, his bright white tooth giving him an almost beastly form. "I'm here on behalf of my lord to offer you a truce proposal in exchange for information."  
  
"And what do I have that would be so valuable to Voldemort, Macnair?" Macnair chortled a bit as Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  
  
"Why, the key to the Potters' Fidelius Charm, of course," he replied. "We're well aware that you're their Secret Keeper." Peter broke out in laughter as he used his wand to break the body bind curse he had used on Malfoy and removed the hat off the Death Eater's head.  
  
"Your information network is a little off," Peter said with a mirthful grin. "I'm afraid that you're looking in the wrong direction."  
  
"Are you now, Pettigrew?" Macnair said, throwing Malfoy a look of disgust as he marched towards Petergrew, a distressingly calm look on his face. "It hardly seems wise that magicians as skilled and smart as the Potters would place their faith in such a, how should I say it, loose cannon?"  
  
"Do you even know what you're talking about, Macnair?" Peter said as his eyes narrowed even further.  
  
"Quit the act, Pettigrew!" Malfoy spat. However, a quick look from Macnair put the former Slytherin prefect in his place.  
  
"As gifted as Mister Black is," Macnair said as he slowly walked towards the Marauder, "he's unreliable. Unsafe. I'm not saying that Black would betray the Potters out of a need for power, per say. I don't know the man well enough personally to say for certain, but I believe that the good Lily Potter knows that your friend is hardly the sharpest knife in the drawer. He might even give away his most precious secrets if he could get in the bed of an attractive harlot at the end of the night, I would imagine." Macnair ignored Peter's growl as he continued on. "So, instead of placing their hope in a brilliant, but flawed, best friend. . . why not place it in the hands of the last person that anyone would expect? Quite impressive, yes, but not anybody to worry about in the whole scheme of things. A black sheep."  
  
Peter sighed deeply as Macnair looked him straight in the eyes. His left hand slowly dove into one of the pockets of his trench coat to pull out a pack of cigarettes. Pulling his wand out with his right hand, Pettigrew placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his wand. After taking a slow drag of the popular Muggle pollutant, he blew a steady stream of smoke from his lips, his eyes never leaving Macnair.  
  
"You never struck me as a detective, Macnair." Peter said as he casually held the cigarette between his ring and index finger.  
  
"So you admit to it?" Macnair asked with the slightest glint of triumph.  
  
"I think it's safe to admit that you were well-aware of it before you arrived," Peter responded simply. "Of course, if you know this then you probably also know that I'd sooner die a thousand deaths then aid you in your master's mad hunt of my friends."  
  
"Indeed I do," Macnair said, giving Peter a look of appreciation, "and that's something to be respected. Need I remind you that James and Lily Potter are wanted for crimes against my lord? They'll die no matter what you do, Pettigrew. You and the Potters have made some rather, original, efforts in avoiding our traps thus far, but your luck will run out. They will die at Voldemort's hand and you will be held responsible for not letting it come sooner. As for you, you'll die just because you knew them."  
  
"Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time, Macnair," Pettigrew sneered, stretching his legs to look Macnair in the eyes. "I'd sooner die then help you. We'll find a way to stop you! Even if it takes our lives!"  
  
Once again, Macnair nodded to Pettigrew respectfully, even looking back at Malfoy to further express his appreciation. Malfoy didn't bother to reply.  
  
"It's a shame that you've chosen the wrong side, Mister Pettigrew," Macnair said, placing a huge hand on Pettigrew's small shoulders. "I would have enjoyed working with someone of your talents."  
  
"Spare me your flattery," Pettigrew said as he angrily turned away from Macnair and began to take off back down the alley.  
  
"How's your wife, Pettigrew?"  
  
Those four words froze Pettigrew in his tracks. There was no way they could have learned about that. It wasn't possible. They had kept everything a complete secret! They held the ceremony at Hogwarts just to make certain that it wouldn't catch the eyes of the Death Eaters! Peter could just make out Malfoy's cold laugh as Macnair continued on.  
  
"I imagine that she is quite worn out after her struggles with labor. It must have been hard for you to leave your wife's side just as your child was being born."  
  
Harry, Hermione, Matt, and Peter all paled at Macnair's words, although they did so for completely different reasons. The three young wizards simply stared in shock at the entire scene as Pettigrew's body began to shake very slowly, a small tear falling from Pettigrew's eyes.  
  
"Who told you?" Pettigrew asked, his voice a far cry from what it was just moments ago.  
  
"A beautiful baby girl. It was fortunate that James was there to keep you from fainting as soon as you arrived back at home. Lily and Remus, of course, were all too happy to help with the delivery. After all, it's not everyday that one of your dearest friends has a child. I was told the child has your eyes, is that true?"  
  
"Who told you?" Pettigrew asked again, his voice not trembling anymore.  
  
"And let's not forget the wedding ceremony. You must have been thrilled when James volunteered to be your best man. For so long you wanted to be accepted by him. Remember when the two of you first met? You two were five years old if I recall. Ever since you went to Hogwarts and met Black and Lupin, you wanted to be appreciated as an equal among your circle of friends and it finally seemed like your wish was coming true."  
  
"WHO TOLD YOU!" Pettigrew roared as his wand flew out of his trench coat and into his right hand. Malfoy stepped forward and drew his own wand, almost daring the Marauder to make the first move.  
  
Macnair didn't move a muscle.  
  
"Does it matter who told us, Mister Pettigrew?" Macnair sneered. "I think the important thing is that we know." The executioner made a motion with his hands telling Malfoy to stay put as he walked towards Peter.  
  
"Oh, you can sacrifice your own life for your friends, Pettigrew. However, can you sacrifice the lives of your friends and loved ones?" Macnair slowly stepped towards Peter, every one of his heavy steps on the cobblestone alley feeling like a punch in the gut. "Your wife? Your child? Your dear mother and father? Black? Lupin? Their lives are in your hands, Pettigrew. Tell us what we want to know and we will spare them. If you refuse and continue to go about your childish rebellion, then everyone you know will die. I will see to it myself. I assure you that their screams will haunt you for the rest of your life."  
  
Tears streamed from Peter's eyes as Macnair once again placed his massive hands on his shoulders, the sudden clap of pressure on his body shaking his diminutive form like an earthquake. His mind raced as he tried to find a solution, anything that could help him, anything that he could use to ward away the horrible crime that Voldemort had forced upon him. There had to be something! Anything! Images of his wife and child flashed before his eyes, his tiny body shaking as his mind stretched as hard as it could. However, as soon as he had done all he thought he could do, when he could think of nothing more, he finally discovered the true truth of the matter.  
  
He had to do it. There was no right or wrong, just two disgusting choices that would plague him for the rest of the days. There would be no happy ending. No riding off in the sunset. Peter Pettigrew only prayed that what he did would be better than what he didn't do.  
  
"What do you want to know?"  
  
Not a word was said as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Matt McGonagall were hurtled out of the nexus that was the excess thoughts of Albus Dumbledore and back into the physical plane. Hermione's lower lip was quivering, her chocolate-brown eyes glistening with forming tears. Harry's eyes stared at the red carpet covering Dumbledore's office, not even capable of looking upwards. Matt placed his pale hands on the floor and lifted himself upwards like an automaton. His eyes blinked rapidly as his neck creaked to look at Dumbledore, who continued to stand at the far end of the pensieve.  
  
"Why did you show us this?" Matt asked softly.  
  
"You must know what you are about to face," Dumbledore replied. "We cannot shy away from what has happened in our past, we must focus on correcting our mistakes for the present. You just looked at how good men lost their lives, their very souls, due to Voldemort's influence, his power. You must be strong." Harry and Hermione both hefted themselves to their feet, Hermione still sniffling and biting back tears.  
  
"The road that the three of you are about to embark upon is one of frustration and satisfaction, of happiness and grave sorrow. You will be asked to push yourself to your physical and mental limits on countless occasions and you cannot fail. I would never wish any of this upon any of you, but it is out of even my control. Destiny has begun its dance and the three of you are at the center of it all. The only way that you can survive these terrible hardships is that you believe in one another! You must draw upon your strengths! Draw upon the bond that the three of you share and never stray from it. If you fail, then the world may very well fall with you."  
  
Dumbledore looked at the three young wizards, the people destined to be at the head of the time of troubles, the first line of defense against the darkness that would soon arrive. He saw fear in their eyes, in their hearts. Not just fear of failure but fear of what was to come. But the aged wizard saw something else in the youths as well.  
  
He saw courage, he saw love, and he saw hope.  
  
And Albus Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"What do you want us to do, Professor Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, a small lump at the top of her neck. A long silence filled the room, only to be interrupted by the soft snoring of Fawkes, who had not even seen what had occurred. Dumbledore removed his hands from the pensieve and walked towards the three students, walking slowly as if not to frighten them. He stopped within one foot of them and lowered his head gently, gathering the three students in with his eyes.  
  
"To be prepared."  
  
I'm not really sure how all of you are going to respond to this one! I'd ask you to forgive me for my treatment of Peter Pettigrew, but Wormtail is my favorite character. Flame me if you want, but I still stand by it. I hope and pray that the next few chapters aren't as long as the previous three have been, but knowing my sudden explosion of ideas, I'm not making that a certainty. Once again, I would appreciate your reviews and criticisms and I will be more than happy to respond in kind. I hope you've all enjoyed reading my humble story thus far and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it, as well as my future works. And now, the next chapter preview.  
  
  
  
The first day of June has arrived at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and its many students are rushing about to prepare for their finals and have a great summer. However, our two heroes (and one heroine) have quite a bit more on their plate. How will they respond to Dumbledore's revelations? Can they find Voldemort's supporter within Hogwarts? How will they choose to cope from the incredible responsibilities that have been forced upon them? Find out in the eleventh installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery: Marauders: Past and Future. Don't miss it! 


	11. Marauders: Past and Future

Hello my readers! Welcome back to Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery, the eleventh installment of it at that! Let me reassure everyone that this chapter will be quite a bit more good-natured than the last three. No blood, no violent outbursts of anger that could level a small town, and only a slight smattering of teenage angst. However, I can't promise that this chapter won't be as long as the last ones have been. I've discovered that I now have little, if any, real control over my story. I'm just along for the ride now, much like all of you. But, why should I worry about a boring introduction when I can just move on to a boring disclaimer.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or any of the other denizens of the Harry Potter universe that will make their presence felt in this chapter. I've got an original character thrown in, but nobody cares about who owns him (and I don't blame them).  
  
Chapter 11- Marauders: Past and Future  
  
Remus Lupin gently place his daily newspaper on his kitchen table when he heard the sound of his daily breakfast, two slices of toasted wheat bread, pop out of his toasters. Whenever any of his neighbors, all of them witches or wizards, would visit his home they would point at the heating device and tell him to get rid of it, saying that it was nothing more than a worthless piece of Muggle machinery. Such "artifacts" had no place in the home of a kindly and intelligent man such as himself and they just didn't belong in the "advanced" society that magicians spent their daily lives.  
  
'Then again,' Lupin mused as he placed the two slices of bread flat on a plate, 'they would also say that there was no place for a werewolf in the wizarding world, either. So what did they know?'  
  
Remus Nathaniel Lupin was a lycanthrope, a full-blooded werewolf in layman's terms. Shortly after his sixth birthday, he and his older brother had wandered out to a shady grove several hundred yards away from the humble Lupin home. Such an act of juvenile behavior would have certainly been severely chastised by their mother and father if they were caught. However, the consequences of this trip were far beyond a simple scolding for young Remus. A werewolf, desperate for nourishment, attacked the young boy, ruthlessly biting him several times in the neck and chest. By the time his older brother had frantically carried him back to their house, Remus was near death. Quite ironic that the only thing that saved his life was the blood of the angry creature that attacked him now flowing through his veins.  
  
The first transformation occurred two weeks later, a shocking experience to say the least both for himself and his family. His horrified brother quickly ran to his parents to warn them of a wolf cub that had somehow snuck into the house. Although there was a bit of confusion over the matter at the first transformation, Remus' mother and father were quite capable of seeing the connection during the second transformation the next night.  
  
Remus had a terrible time adjusting to the strains that such a complex act of human transfiguration could occur but now, particularly in his adolescent years. Now, after 26 years of experience, he could weather it. For the next four years, Remus was an outcast; locked away by his parents for fear that he would harm others. It was hardly the decision that Remus thought he would have made if he were in their shoes, but the passing of time gave him some clarity on the entire situation and he loved them all the same. The once robust boy became a pale, sickly young man in those four years. Remus would read every book about lycanthropy he would find, forming a craving for knowledge that would soon extend into a love for the Dark Arts and Transfiguration techniques.  
  
His admission letter to Hogwarts had arrived several days after his big brother came home from his second year. His mother and father were thrilled that Remus was accepted into one of the highest learning institutions in Europe, particularly considering their son's condition. However, Headmaster Dumbledore assured them that he would make certain that Remus' dreadful secret would remain unknown.  
  
And thus, one cheerful summer day, his parents flew him to Platform 9 ¾ where he would experience one of the most wonderful moments of his life. For you see, Remus Lupin met his first three friends on that train ride to Hogwarts. First there was James Potter, a wild-haired young man whose carefree attitude seemed to both frighten and intrigue the young man. Then there was Peter Pettigrew, James' childhood friend, who invited him to their booth when he saw that Remus had nowhere to sit. Remus had never been offered many things by anyone, thus he was quite taken aback by this rare occurrence. The present-day Remus chuckled to himself as he remembered how Peter goaded him into the seat by offering him half of his bag of Bernie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. This caused a rather playful argument between James and Peter that finally convinced him to sit with the two rambunctious youngsters. ("Come on, Peter! Don't give him all the good ones!" "I don't want to give him all the good ones, I plan on saving myself some too! You're getting the bad ones!") The three of them were soon joined by another young man, who stumbled into their compartment red- faced with laughter. A brief interrogation revealed that the boy had just placed a Dungbomb into the suitcase of a slick-haired boy named Severus Snape. He was clearly still enjoying his results of his first prank as a student at Hogwarts as he sat down beside Remus. The young man's name was Sirius Black, a problem child if there ever was one, as he often liked to call himself.  
  
Remus would make many other friends during his seven years at Hogwarts, but his life at Hogwarts would always revolve around the three people he met that day. Remus, Peter, Sirius, and James. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.  
  
The Marauders.  
  
They said they'd be friends forever on their graduation day.  
  
Remus still wasn't quite sure what happened to that promise as he polished off the second slice of toast and brought the dirty plate to the sink. Sirius was a wanted felon, accused and convicted of a crime he didn't commit and forced into hiding. James and his wife, Lily, were killed protecting their child. And, Peter. . .  
  
Peter was the enemy.  
  
Remus continued to keep in contact with Professor Dumbledore, thus he knew of Macnair's attack on James's son and his friends on New Year's Eve in Snape's dungeon. Dumbledore never directly stated that it was Peter who had saved the children's lives, but it wasn't hard to read between the lines. He felt a pang of pity for Harry, Hermione, and Matt every time he picked up the lengthy parchment and read through it. Although Remus didn't get to know the Ravenclaw as well as Harry and Hermione during his short stint as a Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, he did have a few fond memories of the young man. He was uncommonly bright, although he often refused to admit to it, preferring instead to show off his talents with various pranks and displays of juvenile behavior that left him hard-pressed not to laugh out loud at the boy. The time he dressed up a kappa in a pink dress with a colorful floral pattern was quite original, and Matt's adventure against the boggart was something that he wouldn't forget for quite a long time. When Snape informed the public of Lupin's "other half," Matt "protested his dismissal" by placing an enchantment on Snape's potion books causing them to scream every time the potions master was within five feet of them.  
  
'No wonder Sirius has taken such a shine to him,' Remus thought as he shook his head at the memory.  
  
However, despite his interest in keeping tabs on Harry and his friends, he also felt that the struggles of Hogwarts were not something he was a part of anymore. He certainly didn't want Harry and his friends to be placed in danger, but he also realized that they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. After all, any witch or wizard that was capable of standing up to a monster like Macnair for any length of time was something to be respected and, quite frankly, a bit feared. Also, there were surely enough competent witches and wizards at Hogwarts to take care of Harry: his old friend Sirius, Dumbledore, McGonagall, hell, even Snape. Remus Lupin had his own lot in life and that lot wasn't at Hogwarts.  
  
So, instead of worrying about matters concerning the perils of the world, Remus Lupin now devoted his life in tackling the equally daunting challenge of being a thirty-seven year old bachelor with dwindling funds, an uncommonly high water bill, and a severe case of lycanthropy. He had managed to buy a modest home in the countryside sixty kilometers west of Hogsmeade with the money he had saved working as a professor at Hogwarts. His food and other bills were covered by the royalty checks he received from the books he had written shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Peter and Sirius had annoyed him into writing about werewolves and how they are viewed in society, Remus being quite an expert in the subject after all. Although he was a little loathe to do so for obvious reasons, Remus would spend the next several years writing and was rewarded handsomely in the process. Lupin thanked his lucky stars that the publishing company he signed on with didn't hold his own lycanthropy against him. He didn't know what he'd do without the money he earned from his books. After all, not many witches or wizards consider being a werewolf as a shining job qualification.  
  
But, all things considered, Remus Lupin thought he had a good life. Nothing too drastic, nothing too slow, just the everyday struggles of a normal wizard. He had learned, with quite a deal of effort, to make the complex Wolfsbane potion on his own last summer so he no longer had to rely on Snape to pacify his nights under the full moon, and there were no debts to his name. Yes, Remus was quite content with his life as it was going.  
  
Of course, Remus Lupin was fully aware of the fact that whenever things start to go smoothly, the other shoe is bound to drop.  
  
It wasn't a shoe for Remus, however, it was a scratching sound on the welcome mat outside his door. At first, he chalked it up to a trick of his ears and marched back to the kitchen sink to place his plate in the dishwasher. However, even he couldn't deny the sound of loud barking emanating from his doorstep. Lowering his shoulders and sighing deeply, Remus walked to the door laborious, much as he did when he was sent to McGonagall's office as a child. A particularly loud bark seemed to punch Lupin right in the face as he released the bolt on the front door and swung it open.  
  
And there, waiting quite impatiently on his newly bought welcome mat, was a shaggy, black dog. A dog that Remus often thought that he knew far too well.  
  
'This cannot be good,' Remus thought as he opened the door wide, allowing Snuffles to walk inside.  
  
There seemed to be a thick air of melancholy around the small section of the Gryffindor dining tables where Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Matt McGonagall, and Ron Weasley usually took their meals. There were quite a few possible causes for this behavior. It could have been because the four of them had recently witnessed the horrible death of a respected Ministry official. It could have been the alarming, though unwilling, display of Hermione's hidden powers several hundred yards into the Forbidden Forest. It could have been the pressure that would have naturally occurred among students when the term was coming to a close and final examinations were looming over them. However, as is often the case, the problem lay in an ugly combination of the three, which caused for a fourth problem to enter the picture.  
  
"I hate to admit it," Matt said as he lazily brought the edge of his knife down into the center of his buttered toast, "but I miss Ron." Harry and Hermione both murmured an agreement.  
  
Indeed, Ronald Weasley was nowhere to be found in the Great Hall. Given Ron's prodigious appetite the trumped-up mess hall was probably the first place anyone would have ever bothered to look for him. Neither Ron or Ginny had spoken to any of them since Crouch's death. Ginny hadn't shown up at Hagrid's hut once in the past week except for classes, much to Hagrid and Matt's dismay. She instead chose to spend her time with Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and some of her fellow third-year students, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the usual gab sessions. Harry and Hermione tried their hardest to get Ron to speak to him, but he continued to shy away from them with every effort, his excuses becoming more and more porous with each occasion. If he did show up for meals, he would sit on the other end of the Gryffindor table with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.  
  
"I just can't understand why he won't talk to us!" Hermione shouted as she banged her fist on the table. "It's not like we did any of this on our own volition!"  
  
"You'd be scared too if you saw your friend nearly set the entire Forbidden Forest on fire," said Harry soberly. "Dumbledore is right, let's just give Ron some time." Despite the sureness in his voice, Harry didn't like the idea anymore than Hermione did. He missed Ron as a friend, the very first friend he met on the Hogwarts Express. Sure, Hermione and Matt were taking up a lot more time in his life nowadays, but he still considered Ron his dearest friend, someone who didn't have, as Snape had told them shortly after the pensieve incident, the wings of destiny on their backs.  
  
"Have you guys talked with Fred and George about it?" Matt asked glumly.  
  
"Ron's been avoiding them too," Harry answered. "They even cast a spell on his bed that turned it into a giant whoopee cushion a couple days ago to try and liven him up. He didn't even bat an eye."  
  
"If you're going to ask somebody about Ron Weasley, then why don't you just ask him??"  
  
All three of them jumped a bit at Ron, who was holding his breakfast tray in his hands, an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
"Ron. . ." Matt said hesitatingly, a rarity in the Ravenclaw's case. "Do you want to sit down?" The hot-tempered Weasley didn't budge an inch.  
  
"Just answer me this," Ron said, his eyes looking very fatigued, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Hermione, did you, you know, do that, stuff. . ."  
  
"I have no idea how I did it," Hermione said, making sure to look her friend straight in the eyes. She didn't want to lose one of her dearest friends because of anything else she did. "I couldn't do it again even if I tried."  
  
"All right," Ron said stiffly, trying to force back a lump in his throat. "Do all three of you. . can all of you do this stuff?"  
  
"From what we've read from Vol, er, You-Know-Who's and Ravenclaw's prophecies, it certainly looks like it." Matt said, not using Riddle's nom de surre, which frightened Ron as well as much of the rest of the wizarding world. "Seems like I'm the late bloomer, though."  
  
Ron's eyes widened as he deciphered the precise meaning in Matt's statement. "You mean, Harry. . ."  
  
"It was during the second task," Harry said flatly. "I cast some kind of electrical field around my body when I was fighting the grindylows. If I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have survived."  
  
"Oh," Ron said, nodding his head up and down while trying to conjure up Harry's struggle with the grindylows in his brain. He blew out a breath before speaking again. "Well, I suppose that such things come in handy every now and then."  
  
"It has its moments," Harry said.  
  
"We're sorry for not telling you everything, Ron," Matt said. "We thought that if we told you all about this then. . ."  
  
"Then what?" Ron said, a tinge of red in his face. "That I wouldn't be your friend anymore? That I would think that you guys were some kind of freaks?"  
  
"Well. . ." Harry muttered, his eyes focused on his breakfast plate.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," Ron continued on as he placed his tray of food on his regular seat. "I'm not about to deny that all this stuff doesn't scare me half to death! I mean, it seems one minute we're having fun pulling pranks and studying in the library and the next minute you guys are like superheroes!"  
  
"We're not superheroes," Hermione said flatly.  
  
"You know what I mean," Ron cut her off. "I'm supposed to be your friend. We're supposed to share our struggles, face our challenges together and all that other rubbish, and I'm not even sure if I can do that anymore! I know I probably won't be able to be with you guys when you fight You-Know. . ." Ron's cheeks paled a bit, "Voldemort and I probably never will! I knew that the first day you guys went on that awful training that you guys do."  
  
"But. . ." Ron said with downcast eyes, "I'm your friend, and I want to help."  
  
Harry said nothing to his best friend, he just continued to stare at him as a sour grin arose from Ron's face. Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip, trying to hold back her vulnerable crying reflexes.  
  
"You're not about to go off and say, 'I love you guys,' or something, are you?" Matt asked with a wry grin. Ron looked back at his Ravenclaw, perplexed by his dry tone. As usual, it only took him moments for the beat to set in.  
  
"Nah," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. "That stuff's for those greeting cards that Muggles by all the time."  
  
"Then sit your ass down and eat," Matt said, as he hefted Ron's food tray onto the table and slapped the seat. "I'm not about to have you bummin' off my snack supply by the time lunch rolls around."  
  
Ron's smile couldn't have been brighter as he shook his head and took his usual seat next to Matt, already beginning to tuck into his hash- browned potatoes. Matt wrapped his right arm around Ron and scuffled his hair with the left, much like Fred or George would do. Hermione just shook her head while Harry laughed at the two of them.  
  
"So," Ron said, taking a big gulp from his goblet of milk, "where did you guys go after the whole Crouch thing?"  
  
"We had to spend the night in Snape's chambers," Harry replied. Ron's face stretched out into a horrified expression, looking as if he had just been told to share the same bed with a black widow spider.  
  
"Good God! Now I actually do feel sorry for you!"  
  
Meanwhile, Virginia Weasley was staring at the lively conversation between her brother and his friends with a doleful look on her face. The auburn-haired young woman slowly went through her scrambled eggs as she tried to tune out the conversation that Parvati Patil and Lavendar Brown were having concerning how cute Cedric Diggory looked in the hallway yesterday. Ginny did such an efficient job at tuning them out that she didn't even respond when Lavendar turned to her to try and get her opinion about it. When she didn't respond, Lavendar looked over to Ron and the others with a knowing grin.  
  
"Well," Lavender said, as she pulled her favorite hairbrush from her purse and began to run it through her silky, blonde hair. "Looks like those four are back to normal."  
  
"Good thing too," Parvati followed. "I was totally sick of Ron sitting next to us when we did our Divination homework. He kept on laughing at us."  
  
Ginny fought hard not to laugh out loud herself at Parvati's observation. Lavendar and Parvati were almost like devout followers under the faith that was Sybil Trelawney. Ron seemed to make it a daily activity to belittle the somewhat airy Seer as he and Harry came up with increasingly insane answers for their homework assignments in that class.  
  
"Girl, you're no good to us here! Why don't you just talk with him?" Lavendar asked impatiently. That question certainly got Ginny's attention.  
  
"I'm not going over there to talk with Harry!" Ginny said, blushing as she often did when her thoughts centered around the wild-haired Gryffindor.  
  
"Come on, girl," Lavender said while Parvati sniggered beside her. "I wasn't talking about Harry. Besides, Hermione's got him wrapped around her finger."  
  
"I know!" Parvati nearly squealed. "What does he see in her? She doesn't do anything except study!"  
  
"We're talking about Matt, Gin'," Lavendar continued as Parvati nodded in agreement. "We know he likes you!"  
  
"What are you two talking about?" Ginny asked as she fought back the desire to gather what's left of her breakfast and flee from what would surely become an impromptu inquiry.  
  
"Oh, come off it!" Parvati shouted, a triumphant look on her face. "There's no use denying it! I don't think I would go for somebody like him, he hangs around Hagrid too much! But, he is kind of cute."  
  
Ginny didn't have the slightest clue as to what to say to that. What did they mean that he spent too much time around Hagrid? Since when was Matt cute?  
  
"I've seen river trolls that look cuter than Matt MacDougal," Ginny said flatly.  
  
"Have you seen his butt?" Lavendar asked Parvati, who giggled impishly in response.  
  
"I'd spend some time around those blast-ended skrewts if I could get my hands on that!" Parvati shouted.  
  
"Urgh!" Ginny growled as she hastily rose from the table amidst a gale of laughter from the two gossiping Gryffindors and stomped out towards Professor Moody's classroom. Sure, she'd be a half-hour early for the class, but anything was better than this!  
  
"So just what does a pensieve do?" Ron asked.  
  
"It lets you look into the thoughts of the wizard who controls it," Hermione replied as she dabbed her face with a spare napkin. "In this case, we looked at Dumbledore's thoughts."  
  
"I'm not sure if I'd want to do that," Ron said unsurely as he placed his fork down on the dirty table. "Don't get me wrong, I like Professor Dumbledore, but he's as strange as they come."  
  
"Strange people should never call other people strange," Matt said as he pointed his fork at Harry.  
  
"Yes," Harry said as he pointed his fork right back at Matt. "It just messes up the grand scheme of things."  
  
"Would you be quiet?" Ron said jokingly. "I'm trying to have a nice conversation with Hermione!"  
  
"You better look out, Harry!" Matt said with an wicked twinkle in his hazel eyes. "I think Ron's trying to move in on your property!" Ron, not missing a beat, lightly slapped Matt in the back of the head.  
  
"Don't ruin things for me!" Ron whispered urgently. "Why don't you make yourself useful and take Harry away somewhere while I ask Hermione out!" Harry placed his hands on his temples and nearly sunk into the table while Hermione stared down her two cackling friends.  
  
"I'm no one's property," Hermione said coldly, pondering whether or not she could turn Matt and Ron into newts without anybody noticing.  
  
"Anyway. . ." Ron continued as he took his knife and fork and cut into his slice of breakfast ham. "Just what did you guys see in the pensieve?" Harry, Hermione, and Matt looked at one another, silently discussing just who was going to tell the story and whether they should leave anything out. After a good five seconds of quiet contemplation, Matt sighed and raised his hands into the air.  
  
"Looks like I'm telling it," he said as he turned his hips to put himself face-to-face with Ron. "Why am I the one that always has to tell the stories?"  
  
"Because you're good at it," Hermione responded serenely "And besides, there are so very few things that you're proficient at. You may as well keep to your strengths."  
  
"Shouldn't you go back to the Forbidden Forest and clean up all the vomit you left in the forest?" Matt asked sharply. "Some poor animal might slip on it and break their necks."  
  
"Can we please move on with the story?" Harry pleaded as Ron tried hard to stifle his laughter.  
  
So, without any further delays, Matt told Ron what the three of them saw in Dumbledore's pensieve. The trials of Igor Karkaroff, Ludovic Bagman, the Lestranges, and Barty Crouch Jr. were described with as much detail as the Ravenclaw could provide. Then, biting back the desire to ask Harry to go on with the next part of the story, Matt told Ron of what they saw between Macnair and Peter Pettigrew. The youngest of the Weasley brothers, as was often the case when a good story was being told, was an excellent audience, widening his eyes at just the right moments and paying close attention without saying a word. Finally, almost relieved to be finished talking about Pettigrew and Macnair, Matt told him about what Dumbledore said once they left the pensieve.  
  
"That's some pretty heady stuff," Ron said, as he pushed what little was left of his breakfast to the side. "I never even guessed that Peter would have had a wife and child." Ron, quite alarmed with what he just said, turned back to Harry. "Of course, that doesn't mean Peter isn't a rotten guy!"  
  
"I never said he wasn't." Harry said as he crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in concentration. "But it does answer a few of my questions about the whole matter."  
  
"There's still too many questions left to make any sense of it, though." Hermione said. "If Peter was forced to give up the Potters, then why would he go back to Voldemort once Sirius found out? Why would he murder all those Muggles if he was an innocent man? And that's just the tip of the iceberg!"  
  
"Why can't anything we deal with ever be just black and white?" Ron asked with frustration.  
  
"Come on, Ron," Matt said as he speared the last of his sausage links with his fork. "Everybody knows that black and white is boring. Takes all the fun out of life."  
  
"Speaking of fun," Hermione said as she rose up from her seat. "We've got Herbology in ten minutes. We best make our way to the greenhouse."  
  
"Wonderful," Harry said as he hefted his Herbology book from underneath the table, holding it as if it was some kind of radioactive material. "I think if I see one more piper plant, I'll scream."  
  
"Then at least warn me before you do so I can get my earmuffs," Ron said as he took a last bite of his ham.  
  
"And I've got Care of Magical Creatures," Matt added as he rose from the table and started to clean the table along with his friends. "I better get over there before Hagrid thinks he can handle the skrewts all by himself again!" Then, with a furtive rush, Matt picked up his books and dashed for Hagrid's hut turning back to wave goodbye to the three Gryffindors as he left.  
  
Harry, Hermione, and Ron would have followed their friend if they didn't see Neville Longbottom jmping towards them, his legs seemingly stuck to each other. As the clumsy Gryffindor had a panicked look on his plump face, his eyes bulging like the cheeks of a bullfrog. Some of the students, particularly in the Slytherin table, pointed at the young man and laughed, but most of the students simply ignored it. After all, this was hardly the first time that such a thing has happened to Neville.  
  
"Hermione. . .huff. . .," panted an exhausted Neville as he nearly keeled over in front of the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "You. . .have gotta. . .huff. . help."  
  
"The Leg-Locker curse again," Harry said as he examined Neville's legs. "Whoever could have cast this?"  
  
"It was Malfoy, Harry!" Neville yelled. "Malfoy and his goons did this to me." Harry just smiled gently.  
  
"I know, Neville. Just being a little sarcastic, is all." Harry said sympathetically, causing Neville's blush to spread even darker.  
  
"Why didn't you just perform the counter-curse Neville?" Hermione said as she searched her bookbag for her wand.  
  
"I would have but they took my wand!" Neville said, his voice a bit more frantic now. Harry and Ron both turned to the Slytherin table to see Draco Malfoy smiling at his handiwork, waving at them with Neville's own wand.  
  
"Malfoy is going to pay for this one," Hermione said as she performed the counter-curse on Neville with no trouble. After a brief thank-you from Neville, Hermione turned her eyes to the Slytherin table and stared down the fair-haired Slyterin. "I'll see to it myself."  
  
"AIN'T TO PROUD TO BEG!" A horribly off-tune voice sang from within Remus Lupin's shower stall. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME GIRL! AIN'T TOO PROUD TO PLEAAAAAAAD! BABY! BABY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME GIRL!"  
  
Remus Lupin covered his ears with his hands in an attempt to drown out the horrible sounds emanating from his bathroom, giving a silent plea to quite a few possible "higher powers," asking just what he had done to deserve such punishment. Admittedly, Remus should have been well aware of the price he might pay if he allowed Sirius Black to use his shower. After all, his old friend had ruined many an early morning at their dormitory back at Hogwarts with his abominable vocal styling. James and Peter would take time out of their day to discuss what they would do to shut Sirius up whenever he broke into song during his morning shower. No matter what James and Peter would do, no matter what complex hex or masterfully- manicured prank that they would try, the singing of Sirius Black would not be stopped. It was like asking to hold back the tides. Twelve years in the most feared prison in the wizarding world may have matured his old friend in many facets of his life, it seemed to have no effect on this one.  
  
While Remus tried to remember just what the reward money was for his friend's capture, Sirius broke into a version of "Like A Rolling Stone" that would have made Bob Dylan wince. Upon hearing the first words, Remus groaned like a petulant little boy who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and slowly banged his head against one of the kitchen cabinets.  
  
"I wish he would just stick to the songs that I don't like," Remus grumbled in frustration as he removed the last of the dishes from his dishwasher, "now he's butchering the songs I still want to hear!"  
  
He was certainly happy to see his old friend in a relative state of safety, particularly after their last parting at the end of Harry's third year ended on such a frightening note, but Remus was quite worried about why Sirius was here. From what he heard from Dumbledore, Sirius had been hiding in one of their old school-day hideouts near the outskirts of Hogsmeade to watch over Harry. Although Remus thought that his old friend's efforts were quite unnecessary, he knew that no argument would convince Sirius to do otherwise. Of course, the fact that Sirius did break away from such an important task meant that something big had to have happened, something that wouldn't be covered in The Daily Prophet.  
  
Sirius emerged from Lupin's now steam-filled bathroom. An old, black Hogwarts robe was around his thin, ragged frame as he used one of his friend's hand towels to remove the water from his ears. Once that was done, Sirius casually threw the towel next to the sink and took a seat next to the kitchen table. Remus yanked open the door of his refrigerator and removed two bottles of lager from it, placing one down within Sirius' reach before taking the seat across from him. Lazily extending his arm, Sirius grabbed the bottle, removed the cap, and downed a good third of the bottle before speaking.  
  
"Thanks for the shower, Moony, old pal," Sirius said as he used the hand towel to wipe away a stray droplet of liquid from his newly shaved chin. A shower and shave had definitely improved the appearance of the only escapee from Azkaban. His long, black hair was brusquely tied up in a ponytail and his night-black eyes seemed to sparkle once again with energy.  
  
"You certainly looked, and smelled, as if you needed it, Padfoot," Remus said as he placed his bare feet on top of the kitchen table in true bachelor fashion. "You were giving off a stench that could fell a chimera."  
  
"I'd like to see you spend six months in a cave with a hippogriff and come out smelling like a rose," Sirius fired back, the two old friends speaking as if they were still students at Hogwarts.  
  
"Sure you don't need anything to eat?" Remus asked as he began to lift himself out of his chair. "No offense, but you're beginning to look pretty thin."  
  
"That's okay, mum," Sirius said childishly as he rolled his eyes. "Matt and Harry have been giving me food parcels on a regular basis. I'm in a lot better shape than I was a while back."  
  
"So you've met Matt McGonagall?" Remus said, pointing the spout of his beer bottle at Sirius. "Interesting fellow, don't you think?"  
  
"Never would have thought that he'd be Minnie the Monster's grandson?" Sirius snorted as he took another swig of his lager. "Looks like he may be bringing some of the James out of Harry as well."  
  
"How so?" Remus asked, his eyebrow raised.  
  
"Why, he's started to pull pranks, Moony!" Sirius nearly gushed. "I never thought I would have seen the day!"  
  
"I'm sure Lily would be proud," Remus said dryly.  
  
"Come off it, Remus!" Sirius said as he sat up on his seat and placed his drink back down on the wooden kitchen table. "You taught Harry for a year! Even you had to have been worried that he'd become some kind of Pollyanna!"  
  
Now it was Remus' turn to roll his eyes. "Please tell me that you had a better reason for coming over here than to tell me that Harry's racking up detentions!"  
  
"Actually," Sirius said playfully, "I have three reasons why I came up here to visit ya!"  
  
"And what would those be?"  
  
"Well," Sirius began. "First, I wanted to check up on you to show you that I was doing all right and vice versa. Just wanted to make sure that we're both on the same page."  
  
"No question about that," Remus said soberly. "Remember that we're Marauders, Padfoot. You're still my friend, always was."  
  
"Very well then," Sirius said casually, although he couldn't help but smile. "Second, I wanted to update you on some of the things that have been happening at Hogwarts since your untimely dismissal at the hands of 'Slime-For-Hair'. I figured that you still wanted to be in the know despite your current state of seclusion."  
  
"I've read what I could," Remus said, picking up his folded Daily Prophet to prove his point. "And I've been in frequent contact with Dumbledore ever since you showed up at Hogsmeade."  
  
"Why, Moony!" Sirius cried, his hands fluttering up to his cheeks. "I never knew you cared!"  
  
"I don't," Remus replied, not missing a beat from his friend's horrific impersonation of Scarlett O'Hara. "I just don't want you getting me into any trouble."  
  
"Well, at least you're watching over me for the right reasons," Sirius said with a carefree shrug of his shoulders. His smile faded, however, when he spoke up again. "I trust you heard about Macnair breaking into Hogwarts on New Year's Eve?"  
  
"Looks like Harry and the others were pretty banged up from it, from what I've heard."  
  
"It was still pretty damn impressive for three 14-year-olds," Sirius countered. "Remember the time when Macnair went up against Hagrid? The big guy's still walking with a bit of a limp from what that madman did to him."  
  
"I'm more worried about who saved them from Macnair," Remus admitted. "I never even considered that Peter would go back to Hogwarts during all this Triwizard mess."  
  
"Let's worry about the rat a little later," Sirius said, his mind unconsciously flashing back to when Peter slipped from their fingers at the Shrieking Shack. "The big business now is Bartemius Crouch."  
  
"Crouch?" Remus asked, a bit mystified over the sudden shift in their conversation. "What does that sycophant have to do with this? I know he was a judge from the Triwizard tournament before going to St. Mungo's but. . ."  
  
"Crouch is dead, Moony. Murdered."  
  
It was all Remus could do to spit out his beer in shock as Sirius told him the news.  
  
"Hermione and Matt found him in the Forbidden Forest a week ago. Apparently someone checked Crouch out of St. Mungo's and took him to Little Hangleton. Crouch escaped and he tried to get to Dumbledore to warn him about something but he didn't make it."  
  
"Macnair?" Remus asked, his hands planted firmly on the table.  
  
"You know magic isn't really Macnair's style," Sirius said. "Besides, he was in the Ministry offices the entire weekend, according to Dumbledore."  
  
"Then who?"  
  
"Crouch's list of enemies was a mile long, Moony. It could be anybody. Besides, it's not who murdered Crouch that worries me. . ."  
  
"It's where the murderer is now," Lupin finished for him as he used his wand to open the refrigerator door. With a swish and flick, two more bottles of beer rose up and levitated over to Remus and Sirius. Sirius accepted it gratefully, opened it slowly and gave a brief sip.  
  
"There's a spy at Hogwarts, Remus." Sirius said with finality as he let out a breath mixed with equal parts frustration and alcohol fumes. "I don't know who he is, Harry doesn't, Hermione doesn't, Matt doesn't, Moody doesn't, hell, I don't think even Dumbledore knows. If he's after Harry, then the spy knows that he's running out of options."  
  
"Or she's running out of options," Remus pointed out as he opened up his second beer.  
  
"Whatever," Sirius pressed on. "They could get desperate, and I'm not sure what I can do to protect Harry if that happens."  
  
"Have you ever considered the idea that Harry and his friends can take care of themselves??" Remus said this very slowly, well aware that he was walking on dangerous ground with this. "Heaven knows that they've handled another hazards without anyone else's help."  
  
"Don't get me wrong, Remus," Sirius said with a heavy sigh. "Granger and McGonagall are damn good magicians, probably the best wizards I've ever seen at that age. However, they're still children. So is Harry. They don't deserve to have to face all this!"  
  
"What would you do to help them, Padfoot?" Remus inquired as he placed his half-full bottle of beer on the table. "Give up your life, perhaps?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"You're sounding awfully suicidal, old friend," Remus continued, looking at his old school chum steadily. "Quite a bit like Peter."  
  
Sirius Black froze when Remus said this, horrified for two different reasons. One, the thought of being compared to that miserable, stinking traitor was something that reviled him to his very core and two, he couldn't help but think that Remus was right. Choosing to avoid any other possibility to be compared to Peter, Sirius rose up from the kitchen table and rifled through his small bag of belongings that he carried with him all the way from Hogsmeade. After a brief search, Sirius pulled out a small envelope, which he haphazardly tossed onto the table. Remus allowed the envelope to slide a bit on the slick wood before bringing it to a stop with his right hand.  
  
"And what might this be?" Remus asked as he turned the envelope backwards and forwards with his fingers.  
  
"Something that Dumbledore wanted me to give you when I came down here. It's from Mundungus Fletcher, as you can tell from the handwriting, I'm sure."  
  
"Certainly," Remus said, the old mediwizard's muddled handwriting just glared up at him. The letter within the envelope was empty, the message within it obviously hidden by some kind of invisibility charm. The only visible print within the letter was at the top center of the page, where a red and orange drawing of a phoenix stood proudly.  
  
"Haven't opened mine yet," Sirius said with a bit of mirth. "I figured I'll just look at your face while you read yours." Remus placed the letter on the kitchen table and ran his hands through his fading blond hair, now looking as if he was suddenly on the brink of exhaustion.  
  
"So the old fool wants to revive The Order of the Phoenix, does he?" Lupin said as he shook his head sadly.  
  
"I always said the man had too much time on his hands," Sirius quipped.  
  
"What does Dumbledore say about all of this?" Remus asked as he resisted the urge to use his wand to set the letter ablaze.  
  
"Pretty much what I expected. He is happy to support Mundungus Fletcher and all his representatives in the pursuit of justice and peace within the wizarding community. He hopes with all sincerity that many of the good people of England will view Mundungus and his compatriots as a form of inspiration to better themselves and the world they live in. . ."  
  
"And?" Remus asked, drumming his fingers.  
  
"And he isn't going to have shit to do with 'em."  
  
"Good for Dumbledore," Lupin said with a slight smile and a sip of his drink. "Kindly tell those self-righteous, egotistical glory hounds that I also choose not to join their ranks the next time you run into them."  
  
"Sure thing, Moony."  
  
The Order of the Phoenix was an almost clandestine wizard organization founded by Albus Dumbledore twenty-two years ago, several months after Voldemort and his forces ransacked the Ministry of Magic. Remus and Sirius, both very interested in doing their part to protect the world from Riddle's tyranny, were enthused by the lofty goals of the Order and accepted their invitation to join. However, shortly after the deaths of Lily and James, Dumbledore severed all ties with the organization and, along with Severus Snape, left the Order to focus his time on Hogwarts. Lupin quit a week after Peter's "funeral" and now the organization mostly consisted of political radicals like Fletcher who struggled through the placidity of the present and pleaded for the past and Arabella Figg, a woman who generally wanted to do some good but seemed powerless to do so due to the lack of political clout.  
  
The comparisons between many members of the Order and Bartemius Crouch were understandably inescapable.  
  
"I still remember the time when Dumbledore asked Lily and James to join," Sirius said with a bit of a chuckle. "The only time I had seen them laugh any harder was the time Peter and I snuck into Old Lady Figg's room at Hogwarts and painted all her cats black. Old bat thought she'd have bad luck for the rest of her days!"  
  
Remus laughed out loud at the memory of poor Arabella Figg rushing into the Great Hall at breakfast far faster than she honestly should have gone and screeching at Dumbledore to find the "heathens" who committed this "monstrous atrocity". Unfortunately, Sirius was laughing so hard at Figg's blustery behavior that Dumbledore and Groundskeeper Ogg naturally assumed that he was at fault and he and Wormtail spent the next three weeks doing every little odd job that Argus Filch could think of. Remus was never the free-spirit that Sirius was, nor did he have the penchant for troublemaking like James and Peter did, but he enjoyed a good joke as much as the next person. However, as is so often the case when dwelling in the realm of nostalgia, the happy thought soon connected to something that was not so amusing.  
  
"I also remember Wormtail laughing quite a bit when Fletcher extended his invitation to join," Remus said soberly. Sirius' healthy laughter died down a bit as he too remembered that occurrence. The invitation nearly turned into a riot scene, with Peter laughing in Fletcher's face and shouting that the Order was nothing more than a denizen for fools who only cared about acquiring fame and fortune for their good deeds. Needless to say, their old friend was shunned quite a bit after his choice comments on such a popular wizard organization. James and Lily appeared to share the same opinion, but it appeared that neither of them chose to share it openly as Peter had.  
  
"It's all seeming to boil down to ol' Wormtail these days, don't you think, Padfoot?" Remus asked sardonically.  
  
"We had the rat, Remus. We had him ready for Azkaban and we screwed it up!" Sirius said with an angry shaking of his fist. "He made fools of us! Again!"  
  
"He's been doing that for years, Padfoot," Remus said as he picked up his beer bottle once again. "Running away is what he does best. All we have to do is wait until he makes another mistake."  
  
"Hate to point this out to you, Moony," Sirius said with another light sip of his beer, "but he's only slipped up once in twenty years. What happens if he doesn't make another mistake?"  
  
"Then Voldemort will return," Remus said simply. "And I don't even think Dumbledore knows what will happen after that."  
  
Another long pause cascaded through the cramped kitchenette as the two old friends looked at damn near everything except each other: their bottles of beer, the filtered sunlight flowing through the cracks in Remus's blinds, even the small, almost forgotten spot of grape jam that was congealing on the kitchen floor. Thirteen years was being relived in thirteen seconds as Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, two of the most well known wizards of their generation, listened to the simple buzzing of a refrigerator light.  
  
"Peter was never this popular back at Hogwarts," Sirius said simply.  
  
"No, he was not." Remus responded as he started to fold the envelope containing the letter from Mundungus Fletcher into a paper airplane. "He was the quiet one, Sirius. He was the one who would slip under everyone's eyes and just pop up when you least expected it. Now that I look back it, I'm beginning to understand why you all chose Peter to be the secret keeper. Who would suspect him of anything?" With that, Remus aimed his newly assembled paper airplane and let it fly. The bird of prey drifted to the left and crashed unceremoniously a good five feet away from the intended target.  
  
"Your aim always did suck, Moony." Sirius said slyly. "And why are you using a Muggle garbage can? Why not just use your wand? You're becoming worse than Arthur Weasley with this obsession of Muggle stuff."  
  
"To answer your question, I use a garbage can because magic is hardly necessary for this. . . and don't even dare to compare me to Arthur Weasley when it comes to Muggle relations. That's almost an insult."  
  
Sirius just chuckled a bit as he polished off his second beer and rose from his seat to get another.  
  
"So what's the third reason?"  
  
"Pardon?" Sirius asked as he made a slight detour to shut the refrigerator door before walking back to the kitchen table.  
  
"You said there were three reasons that you came here," Remus reminded him. "What's the third?"  
  
"Ah!" Sirius exclaimed as he set the beer on the table and went back to his travel bag. A bit of searching produced two brooms that had been severely shortened with the Reducio charm. "The two of us are going to head out tonight. Harry, Matt, and Hermione are going to meet us at the Godric Gryffindor Cemetary at nine o'clock." Remus was a bit alarmed by Sirius' sudden request. The idea that Sirius could be spotted and the fact that the three people on the top of Voldemort's hit list would be away from the protective confines of Hogwarts didn't help him in the least. However, Remus wasn't about to let his worry eke out in front of Sirius Black. Showing concern for one's safety and hesitation over breaking the rules was something that Sirius scoffed at on a daily basis.  
  
"Whatever for?" Remus asked coolly. Sirius replied with his old, child-like grin as his lips twisted into a debonair smile.  
  
"An initiation."  
  
"Not only will you need to describe the twelve uses of dragon blood with significant detail, you must also be able to tell the origins of many of the potions that we have used in this class this term as well in your third year. In short, this exam will show me what your enfeebled minds have learned in my four years of teaching you." Severus Snape was in full "professor mode" as he announced some of the many questions that could be on his harrowing final exam. His slick, black hair swished behind him as he paced back and forth his dungeon. Every now and then, Snape would turn his face upwards and stare at one of the poor fourth-years, causing them and many of the students in their close vicinity to shudder in fear. "Furthermore, you will memorize the exact ingredients of each of the potions that we have prepared in the last ten weeks of this class and give details of their individual uses."  
  
Hermione Granger was making a silent prayer to all that was holy that her last remaining quill wouldn't snap as she furiously wrote away on an already crowded parchment. Snape was essentially giving them what would be on the Potions exam, and Hermione was not about to ignore this golden opportunity. Granted, the sheer amount of information that Snape was offering to his students was enough to fill up the Hogwarts library, but Snape was nevertheless giving them what was going to be on the exam.  
  
Meanwhile, Ron Weasley was sitting next to Hermione not moving a muscle. Ron's pale face had an expression upon it that was a unique combination of shock, despair, and absolute fear. Like many of his fellow Gryffindors, and quite a few of the Slytherins, he had come to the natural conclusion that he would fail the Potions exam and continue to be taught fourth-year Potions until the end of time. An ignoble existence, no question about it, but it was the only conclusion that Ron could come up with.  
  
The only other student in the classroom that was working as fervently as Hermione was Draco Malfoy. The blond-haired Slytherin, despite his moral and ethical faults, was a very good student, and Potions was his best subject. Malfoy was also spurned on by his desire to beat Hermione's marks this year. He cursed in frustration as the fine point of his quill snapped, causing a tiny puddle of ink to spill onto the lower-left corner of the parchment. After a slight bit of panicking, Draco simply snatched a spare quill from the hands of his friend, Gregory Goyle, who was as silent and still as a rock.  
  
The only calm person in the room was Harry Potter. His status as a participant in the Triwizard tournament made him exempt from the final examinations. Although he often felt guilty about this and would help Hermione, Matt, and Ron with their studies, he couldn't help but smile at his situation right now. The black-haired Gryffindor lazily wrote on his parchment, not about to give Snape a reason to tell him off or take points from Gryffindor, and trying to avoid the nervous shaking of his Potions partner, Neville Longbottom. It was clear from the panic-stricken look on the portly boy's face that his day had not gotten any better since breakfast.  
  
Soon, Snape had finished his examination review and gave the Gryffindors and Slytherins their potions assignment: create two different batches of Wit-Sharpening potion before the end of the hour. Neville, as was often the case when it came to making potions, was a blundering mess. Harry had to stop Neville three times from putting in the wrong ingredients before they had even started to work on the first batch.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry," the kindly Gryffindor mumbled, his squat eyes nearly brimming with tears, "it's just not my day today."  
  
"Budge up, Neville," Harry said confidently. "We'll get this potion done before Snape has the time to tell us off." Harry's encouragement seemed to brighten Neville up quite a bit and he began to work harder on the potion. "Besides," Harry added with a mischievous twinkle in his emerald-green eyes, "I think something's about to happen to Malfoy that should really cheer you up."  
  
Neville nearly dropped the porcupine quills he had in his hands on the floor before looking up at Harry.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" he asked hesitatingly, rising up from his chair a bit to stare at Malfoy. Neville disliked trouble, even when it was dedicated to him.  
  
"Don't look," Harry said softly. "Just watch."  
  
Goyle watched in awe as Draco Malfoy made his first batch of Wit- Sharpening potion with a practiced ease. The Slytherin seeker just couldn't wipe the smile off his handsome face as Snape congratulated him for his fine technique and awarded Slytherin house five points. Malfoy was even more pleased to see that he had finished his assignment before even Granger, a wonderful rarity.  
  
Nevertheless, Malfoy couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. Maybe it was that tingling sensation in his throat or that almost sinister smile that Harry flashed at him every now and then from across the room. Whatever it was, he couldn't shake it. As he added the porcupine quills to his second cauldron, the odd feeling in his throat slowly began to spread outward from the rest of his body, like the time when Alastor Moody turned him into a ferret for attacking Potter while his back was turned.  
  
If Malfoy noticed the he had started clucking, he was doing a wonderful job ignoring it. Gregory Goyle stared at him, his usual befuddled expression looking positively ridiculous now.  
  
"What's a matter, Draco?" Goyle asked, as he saw his fair-haired friend roll out of his seat and drop onto the balls of his feet. Malfoy had tucked his balled fists into the outside corner of his armpits and began to wave them back and forth frantically. His normally, stately neck was working itself mightily in an effort to keep up with his head, which was moving up and down wildly.  
  
Not even Neville could resist laughing at what appeared to be Draco Malfoy's severely heartfelt impersonation of a chicken. It only took moments for the other Gryffindors to catch the bizarre sight and break out into laughter themselves. Draco's girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, sprang from her seat and rushed to him, her face flushed with embarrassment. Severus Snape, on the other hand, slowly marched to the table while Malfoy continued to flail his arms and cluck like an escaped mental patient. The potions professor sent Pansy scurrying with a single look and placed his hands on the student's shoulders to steady him.  
  
"Who did this to you, Malfoy?" Snape asked through clenched teeth. Truth be told, the wily former Death Eater was already coming to his conclusions but he wanted to hear it straight from the horse's, or chicken's, mouth.  
  
Meanwhile, Draco was racking what was left of his willing mind to look back to anything that had happened today that would allow this horrible prank to be played on him. He remembered going in for lunch and sitting at the Slytherin table when he was accosted by Potter, that annoying Ravenclaw, and the mudblood Granger. Then, he remembered a similar incident that the Ravenclaw MacDougal pulled on him months ago, his eyes widening with the relevation.  
  
"Professor!" Malfoy said hoarsely. "It was. . ."  
  
"Yes?" Snape asked, moving in closer.  
  
"It was. . . it was. . . P-GAAAWWWKKK!"  
  
Nearly the entire class roared with laughter at Malfoy's predicament. Ron Weasley was pounding his potions book with his fist and laughing louder than anyone. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas both pointed and laughed at Malfoy like jackals in the night.  
  
While Malfoy continued to cavort about the room clucking, Snape took some time out to come to his own conclusions. He was certain that Potter was involved, no question about it, but Potter was most likely to be the one who administered the potion, not in producing it. Potter's skill at potions were more than passable, but not enough for such a complex concoction. Also, most Transfiguration potions only had a shelf life of two or three hours, and Matt had been working in Hagrid's garden since the start of the day. That meant that the only two people that could have possibly produced such a complex potion was Draco himself or. . .  
  
"GRANGER! GET IN MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW! YOU TOO, POTTER!"  
  
Rising from her chair like a proud warrior, Hermione Granger walked to the front of the classroom with a confident gait, a devilish smile on her face as she locked eyes with Malfoy. Her wild-haired accomplice was right behind her, merrily accepting the applause from his fellow Gryffindors as Snape impatiently waited at the door leading to his storeroom, a horrendously sour look on his face. Hermione entered the storeroom briskly while Harry turned back and began to execute a graceful bow before Snape grabbed the scruffs of his robes and nearly threw him into the storeroom. Snape slammed the door with a mighty bang.  
  
"Do you think the class is over?" Neville asked Ron, the only student who was still seated.  
  
"I think it's safe to say so," Ron said simply as he watched the Gryffindors and Slytherins file out, wincing at the angry shouting of the Potions professor. Neville was about to follow the rest of his classmates out of the dungeon before turning around to see that Ron was still rooted to his seat watching Malfoy.  
  
"Are you going to stay here to wait on Harry and Hermione?" he asked.  
  
"Nah," Ron said as he calmly closed his Potions book and continued to stare at Malfoy. "I'm going to stick around to see if Malfoy lays an egg."  
  
Harry and Hermione's punishment was unexpectedly light in their eyes: two weeks detention and forty points taken from Gryffindor house. Hermione was positively certain that Dumbledore had a hand in stopping Snape's efforts to make things even worse for them. Harry, meanwhile, was a bit worried that his latest trip to detention would interfere with their meeting with Remus and Sirius tonight. Thus, he was quite reassured to learn that their detention would start the next evening with Professor Snape.  
  
"Are you certain you don't want to come along?" Harry asked his red- haired roommate as he climbed aboard his Firebolt, casting it aloft with a kick-off of his right foot.  
  
"Yeah," Matt said, carrying Fred Weasley's Cleansweep as he walked towards the window of the Gryffindor boys' dorm. "It would seem kind of weird for there to be only three of us for something like this."  
  
"Thanks but no thanks," Ron said with a hint of disappointment. "I know that I want to play a bigger role but I don't think that this is for me?"  
  
"You're speaking like that git, Trelawney," Hermione quipped as she gave a nervous peek out the window, trying not to shudder at the sheer height.  
  
"Well, you sound like McGonagall all the time and you don't hear me complaining!" Ron retorted as Harry shook his head and Matt raised an interested eyebrow. "Besides, I'm not sure if I really want what you offered. No offense, Harry."  
  
Harry simply shrugged his shoulders as he did another tight circle with his Firebolt. "I understand. Just remember the invitation is always open."  
  
"You got it," Ron said with his usual cheery smile. A smile that his three friends truly missed seeing the last week.  
  
"Would you hurry it up, Hermione?" Matt shouted as he stopped his broom alongside Harry's. We'd like to make it to Godric's Hollow by the end of the term!"  
  
"Why can't you just be patient!" Hermione yelled while taking yet another tenuous look down. She estimated that she would be flying a good three hundred and fifty feet in the air on this trip, a calculation that hardly eased her mind.  
  
"Unless," Matt said slyly with a roguish grin, "you're too scared to join us up here."  
  
"Don't tease her, Matt," Harry said with a touch of anger, "she's afraid of heights."  
  
"Fear of heights has nothing to do with this," Hermione insisted. She was the last person who would ever admit to having a fear to anything. "I'm just concerned of what would happen to us if we were caught. We really could be expelled!"  
  
"Come on, Hermione!" Matt said as he impatiently circled around Harry. "You're boyfriend is here to protect you if you fall, now let's get to Godric's Hollow!"  
  
Ron tried his hardest to stifle his laughter at Harry's severe blush at the furious look on Hermione's face. He could have sworn to see steam coming out of the bushy-haired Gryffindor's ears.  
  
"That's it!" Hermione growled as she mounted her broom and pulled out her wand with her right hand and pointing it at her Ravenclaw friend. "I'm going to turn you into a porcupine!"  
  
"Eep!" Matt yelped as Hermione rocketed after him, her wand brimming with energy at the spell that she was trying to hit him with. Hermione's shouting and Matt's pleading for mercy didn't die down in the slightest even after five laps around the magnificent castle. As Hermione fired a spell that grazed Matt's brown hair and collided with the roof of the Astronomy tower, Matt swerved his broom around and rocketed off to the general direction of Godric's Hollow. Hermione, whose fear of heights seemed to have been forgotten for a moment, was hot on his heels apparently trying to strangle her friend instead of using magic.  
  
"Better head off after them, you should," Ron said casually while leaning on the bank of the window.  
  
"Looks like it," Harry said in an equally relaxed manner as he waved goodbye to Ron, made a lazy turn with his broom, and hurtled off after them.  
  
It had taken a good five minutes to stop Hermione from trying to kill Matt, although the citizens of Hogsmeade were surely entertained by the free "light show" that Hermione's wand had produced throughout the merry chase. Soon enough, the three of them were coasting through the dry, night sky that was typical of early summer in Great Britain, an array of magical protection spells to keep them from Muggle radar as well as human eyes. Harry, whose speed and skill were far superior to his friends, would often break apart from the formation and perform barrel rolls and somersaults that an ace pilot would be envious of. Hermione, on the other hand, was still quite unsure of her flying skills despite her impressive display just moments ago. She wasn't scraping her fingernails across the broom anymore, but she was still flying quite slowly and with a bit of unsteadiness. Hermione didn't know what frustrated her more: the fact that she couldn't fly very well or the fact that Matt and Harry were constantly flitting around her incase something bad should happen.  
  
"I'm just fine," Hermione tried to reassure them every time George's broom would swerve or lurch forward. Despite Hermione's troubles, the trio were able to make the 100-kilometer trip to Godric's Hollow in just under a hour.  
  
The distant hamlet that was Godric's Hollow was quite an unnerving sight for Harry, and understandably so. As Matt and Hermione flew along beside him, Harry looked down at the upper-middle class homes with white- picket fences and well-manicured gardens and wondered where he and his parents had lived. After all, it was only three months after his first birthday that Rubeus Hagrid had taken him away from there and placed him in the care of the Dursleys. Any memory of his parents was something more valuable than gold to Harry, and he had spent much of his spare time talking his mother and father's childhood friends, almost pleading them to tell him more about them. He wasn't just searching for information, however, he was searching for a connection. Something that would help him understand why his mother and father were so missed, something that would help him understand why so many people asked for so much out of him.  
  
And what he planned tonight was another big step.  
  
"Godric Gryffindor Cemetary, ten o'clock." Matt shouted. He bent his knees and lowered his back to streak downward, moving ahead of the two Gryffindors so that he could lead the way. Skimming just above the iron gate that led into the grounds, Matt abandoned his broom with a graceful front flip and a soft landing from about eight feet up. A quick summoning charm brought the broom back to him as Harry and Hermione simply lowered their brooms and landed next to him.  
  
The Godric Gryffindor Cemetary was hardly anything out of the ordinary, even after considering the quirky translations that many wizards had introduced when engaging in Muggle ceremonies. Some of the headstones were made of solid granite while others were made of hard wood that had been cleverly cut so that it would survive the rain and snow for decades. A rather impressive stone statue of Godric Gryffindor stood in the center of the grounds, as if watching over the human shells that lay beneath the ground. A raven, his plumage looking as if it had been dipped in oil, stood atop of it, looking at the three young wizards as if they were trespassers.  
  
Harry's sharp eyes found the figures of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin a good twenty yards northwest of the statue. Two Comet 260's were hovering alongside them as they stood awaiting the children's arrival. Remus was kneeling over one of the gravestones near them, carefully placing a humble bouquet of red roses on top of it. Harry rushed up to his godfather and gave him a firm hug as Matt and Hermione said hello to their favorite professor.  
  
"You look good," Harry said with a flicker of a smile while giving the black-haired Marauder a once over.  
  
"The wonders of a good shower and a shave, my boy," Sirius said as he flashed a smile. Indeed, the food that Harry and Matt had seemed to restore some strength and vitality into the body of the "Fugitive of Azkaban." His eyes had regained that somewhat mischievous, somewhat charming glow that Harry had seen in his parents' old wedding photo.  
  
"So Mad-Eye Moody is teaching you now?" Remus said as he grinned at his two favorite students. "Are you kids holding up all right?"  
  
"We're doing very well, Professor Lupin," Hermione responded in the voice she seemed to always use when she spoke with a teacher. "Professor Moody's experience in the field of dark arts and hunting criminals has taught us so very much. We've learned all about how to detect wizard traps, how to cast reflecting charms against a number of different hexes. . ."  
  
"How it feels to be subjected to the Imperious Curse, how to disassemble a toaster that you think is possessed by archaic demons, and how to utterly freak out every single person you come in contact with!"  
  
"You're just criticizing Professor Moody because you can't pay attention in his class, Matt!" Hermione hissed.  
  
"No, I'm criticizing Professor Moody because he tried to flash-fry my brain a couple months back." Matt retorted. "And what's this about not paying attention? My marks in that class are just as high as yours!"  
  
"I bet you wish you could say the same thing about Transfiguration class?" Hermione nearly sneered.  
  
"Well, I'm not the one who kisses up to that old bat on every possible occasion!" Matt sneered back as he scrunched up his face and began screeching in a high-pitched voice. "Oh, Miss McGonagall, would it be all right if I put away the lab mice? You had such a wonderful lecture today! I learned so much that I haven't read about fifteen times before I even got to the class."  
  
"I do not kiss up to Professor McGonagall!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Hoo boy," Remus whispered as he slowly backed away from the two quarreling friends and made his way to the much quieter Sirius and Harry, both of who were watching the argument calmly.  
  
"Those two always seemed so normal when I taught them," Remus said as he looked back at two of the sharpest minds at Hogwarts acting like petulant ten-year-olds ("Alastor Moody is highly qualified to teach a Defense of the Dark Arts course." "Yes, he's also highly qualified to be in a padded room at St. Mungo's!").  
  
"Are you implying that my friends are not normal, Remus?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"If he not, then I am," Sirius said. "Both of them are nutters as far as I'm concerned."  
  
"Sirius!" Harry barked.  
  
"Don't get mad, Harry," Sirius said as he ruffled his godson's hair. "It's good that you're hanging out with weird people. Makes life a lot more interesting." Sirius would have gone on if he didn't notice that Harry was kneeling down to look at the two headstones that Remus and Sirius had been standing next to before they arrived. Harry's coursed thumbs swiped over his father's name engraved upon on it, as if trying to absorb the hard granite. No tears ran through his eyes, but a glum smile remained on Harry's features as he went over to his mother's headstone.  
  
"I forgot that you've never been here before," Remus said as he knelt down beside him, gently rubbing Harry's back. "Seems like an odd place to do something like this, don't you think?"  
  
Harry sniffed as he looked down at the flowers placed just on top of the grave of Lily Evans Potter before meeting Lupin's eyes. "No," he said with a wistful shake of his head, "this is part of my father's legacy and I want to make sure that he sees it."  
  
"Fair enough," Remus said as he rose to his feet alongside Harry. "Perhaps we should get started then, don't you agree?"  
  
"Sure," Harry said, his bright smile returning as he turned back to his two compatriots, who were still arguing to an increasingly inane degree.  
  
"Oi!" Sirius called out loudly. "Just break it up and save if for another day! We've got work to do!" That finally stopped the escalating disagreement, with both of them giving each other one last glare before joining the others by the willow tree near James and Lily's graves. The three 14-year-olds stood side by side like stalwart soldiers awaiting command. However, when Sirius opened his mouth to begin the initiation, he discovered there was a slight problem.  
  
"Um, Moony?"  
  
"What is it, Padfoot?" Remus whispered, still staring at the three young magicians in front of them.  
  
"Well," Sirius hemmed and hawed, "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do? Can you do it?" Remus was forced to break eye contact with the children to speak with Sirius.  
  
"What do you mean you don't know what you're supposed to do?" Remus whispered, this time more urgently. "You were the who thought of doing this!" Sirius gave him a guilty look that seemed ridiculously childish to Remus.  
  
"I'm no good at this sort of stuff!" Sirius admitted in a pleading tone. "I never thought we'd be doing this!"  
  
"Well, you just told me about this today so I don't have anything to say either! You're just going to have to wing it!"  
  
Meanwhile, Harry, Hermione, and Matt, who were quite capable of hearing every word that was said, patiently remained still.  
  
"Maybe we should have looked for Peter to do this. . ." Matt whispered, only to be shushed by Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Okay!" Sirius said purposefully as he turned around to meet the three of them. "Please get on your knees. . ."  
  
"WHAT!!" Matt squawked.  
  
"Oh for the love of. . ." Remus said as he slapped his forehead and nearly banged his head against the willow tree.  
  
"Could you be serious for just one second Matt?" Hermione hissed.  
  
"Well, a man who hasn't gotten any in fourteen years just asked us to get on our knees! Excuse me for having a bit of hesitation!"  
  
"Matt!" Harry yelled.  
  
"That's it," Remus said as he used his right arm to back his old school friend behind him. "I'll do it! No getting on your knees! No soldier lines! Just listen up!"  
  
Remus cleared his throat a bit, a bit nervous that he would have to speak to his students once again. He was never much for public speaking, he usually left those things to James and Sirius back in the old days. However, he looked into the eyes of the three young people that stood in front of him, the hope and the courage that flowed through them and he found his words.  
  
"When we formed the Marauders twenty-four years ago, we never thought that anyone would ever think that someone would want to take our places. The four of us were bound through our friendship and our love of life at Hogwarts, and the experiences that I witnessed with James, Peter, and Sirius are something that I shall hold into my heart until the day I die. Harry, you said that you wished to become a Marauder because you wanted to walk the same footsteps of your father. Let me say that your father would be shining with pride if he saw you here today."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched his godfather nod in agreement with that sentiment.  
  
"As for the two of you," Remus continued. "Continue to watch over Harry and be there for each other. I know Dumbledore has told you that you have a long road in front of you and if our mantle gives you any comfort in what you have to bear, then I am more than happy to bestow it."  
  
"And don't forget," Sirius added as he leaned back against the willow tree, "that a Marauder has to raise hell and not be afraid of anything! I want pranks on a daily basis, do you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" Matt crowed while Harry and Hermione sniggered. Remus just turned to his old friend and shook his head.  
  
"Well?" Remus said as he crossed his arms across his chest and looked at them expectantly. "Anything else you wish to add, Padfoot, old friend?"  
  
"Nah, you pretty much said what I was going to say."  
  
"Very well then," Remus said as he clapped his hands together. "I guess the only question left to ask is what names have you given yourselves?"  
  
To answer, Hermione stepped from her place in the line and turned to face Harry and Matt. "I think we've already decided this."  
  
"Indeed," Harry said as he and Matt joined Hermione in a circle as Sirius and Remus watched on.  
  
"Moony," Hermione said as she stuck out her right arm, her fist in the center of the circle.  
  
"Padfoot," Matt said as he too stuck out his right arm, his pinkie just grazing Hermione's thumb.  
  
"Prongs," Harry said as he completed the circle. A small flicker of purplish-green energy coursed through their fists and snaked into the ground as the three of them stood. The three of them had nearly the same look on each other's faces, a look of both frightening determination and childlike enthusiasm.  
  
"May heaven help us all," Sirius whispered good-naturedly to Remus, who just grinned in response.  
  
Well, I wasn't planning on putting Remus into my work this early into the proceedings. I was planning on saving him until fifth year, but I like Remus as much as the next fan and it just seemed natural for him to be here. I hope none of you found this chapter too boring, I realize it's not my strongest chapter yet, but I did enjoy writing it.  
  
I also wanted to say something else before I go into the next chapter preview. One of my reviewers said that I made Harry look dumb and I just want to defend that. I can certainly understand why someone would come to that conclusion after Harry's "constant confusion" in Pathways to the Past, so allow me to flesh things out a little better. Harry isn't dumb, you just have to consider the company he's with. Hermione is a genius, a prodigy whose knowledge of magic is second to none among her fellow students at Hogwarts. She could even give some of the teachers a run for their money. Matt can't match Hermione's raw intelligence and penchant for knowledge, but his knowledge of wizard history and the dark arts, which is something I'll get to later in this story and in some of my novellas later on, lessens the gap between the new Padfoot and the new Moony considerably. Throw in poor Harry, who is quite intelligent, though not as smart as Hermione, and combine that with his complete lack of knowledge about the wizarding world outside what he's been taught at Hogwarts and you can understand why Harry is so damn baffled. Anyway, enough self-defense! Next chapter preview, away!  
  
It's the day of the third task and trouble looks like it's about to come full circle for our heroes. While Hermione and Matt race to find the traitor, Harry and his Triwizard rivals will face daunting challenges that could very well mean the death of them. Will Hermione and Matt be able to foil the mysterious traitor before he makes his move on Harry? What about Peter and Macnair? What are their roles in what's to come? Can anyone stop what already seems predetermined by Rowena Ravenclaw's prophecies? Find out in the twelfth installment of Harry Potter and the Scholar of Mystery: Into the Maze. Don't miss it! 


	12. Into the Maze

Well, it's time for Chapter Twelve of Harry Potter and the Scholar of Mystery. Once again, I'd like to thank everyone for reading, particularly the people who have reviewed. Also, for Dark Golo, I would review your story but I can't speak or read Spanish. Allow me some time to laugh sheepishly and scratch the back of my head in a Goku Son-like fashion. Now that I've taken care of my "calm before the storm" chapter, it's time to get back to the action! Yeah!  
  
. . . Whoops, forgot about the disclaimer.  
  
Disclaimer: Hello, children. Guess what? I don't own any of the characters in the Harry Potter literary universe. Really! Not a one! Once again, I extend my writing talents to J.K. Rowling for the next few books in the series if she's willing to fork over a slight percentage of the royalties.  
  
Chapter Twelve: Into the Maze  
  
The last gasps of the day's sunlight were peeking through the windows of Professor Flitwick's classroom as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Matt McGonagall, were nearly finished with their daily training. The third task would take place the next morning and Harry, like many would in his situation, feared that he may not be prepared. Hermione continued to run Harry through the drills like a determined drill sergeant while Matt and Ron Weasley looked on lazily, both of them exhausted from their rigorous final examinations. Every now and then, the bushy-haired Gryffindor would give Matt an impatient look as she fired spell after spell at Harry's carefully constructed shield charm.  
  
"Very good, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick enthused, who continued to grade papers while watching the display. "I can see how you earned such high marks in my class this term. You've really come into your own!"  
  
"Thank you very much, Professor Flitwick," Harry said, gritting his teeth as he blocked a Jelly-Legs Jinx, the shield caused it to rebound back to Hermione, who front-flipped over the ball of energy before firing another.  
  
"How about me Professor?" Matt asked the diminutive Charms professor. "Did I beat Hermione in this class too?" Matt and Hermione had spent the last two weeks in a fierce competition to see who would earn the highest marks among the fourth years. Thus far, Matt had beaten her in Care of Magical Creatures and Defense of the Dark Arts while Hermione had taken top honors in Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Astronomy, and Herbology. Malfoy had taken top marks in Potions, a fact that he would constantly rub in Hermione's face at any given opportunity.  
  
"Yes, you did, Mister McGonagall," Flitwick said as he ran a tiny hand through his bushy, snow-white beard. "You made a 120 percent, second highest in the class." Matt gave a satisfactory grin, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.  
  
"Too bad your abysmal Transfiguration marks brought you down so much," Hermione teased as she cast another spell on Harry's shield. "It would have made beating you much more satisfying."  
  
"There's always next year, Moony," Matt said as he sat up and took his wand out of his bag. He was expecting it to be his own turn any minute. However, just before he was about to stand up a thought came to his head and he turned back to Professor Flitwick. "Wait a minute. . . second best?"  
  
"Mister Potter scored a 125 percent on his exam. He has top marks in this class."  
  
"Cool!" Harry said as he effortlessly blocked an Expillarmus hex.  
  
"I'm just happy I survived the Potions exam," Ron said as he leaned back in his seat and put his feet up on the desk, looking like a carrot- topped Huckleberry Finn. "I honestly think that Snape was out to kill us with that written examination."  
  
"Come on, Ron!" Matt said as Harry's shield charm began to power down. "It wasn't that bad. After all, he told us everything that was going to be on the test."  
  
"And about a thousand things that weren't on the test," Ron said lazily. "Honestly, you really need to get rid of your admiration for that slime-ball. You'll probably turn into him if you don't."  
  
"I'll just ignore what you just said and concentrate on helping Hermione with her shield charm," Matt said as Hermione murmured an incantation, causing her wand to emit a bright blue light that encircled the young woman.  
  
"Ready, Moony?"  
  
"Ready, Padfoot." The Ravenclaw then used his wand to send spell after spell screaming at Hermione. Despite Matt's diligent efforts to break the protective barrier, Hermione deflected each attack with practiced ease. Both Ron and Professor Flitwick looked at the struggle with mild interest while Harry just couldn't stop staring at the determined look in Hermione's eyes. Her chocolate-brown eyes were gleaming with effort, excitement, anticipation, and confidence. Her bushy hair whipped behind her due to the eldritch energy within the barrier and the force of Matt's spells.  
  
'She looks awfully pretty looking like that,' Harry thought wistfully as Hermione's thin lips tightened to a grimace under the strain. 'She's so strong.'  
  
"Come on, Matt!" Hermione said in a taunting manner. "Surely you can come up with something better than this. I'm not even working up a sweat!"  
  
"You're not, huh?" Matt said, an impish grin on his chiseled face as an idea drummed itself up inside his head. "You want me to step things up a bit?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"You're sure?" Matt said, his grin broadening with every heartbeat. Harry had a warning for Hermione at the tip of his tongue but he decided to let it slide. He wanted to see where his fellow Marauder was going with this.  
  
With one fluid motion, Matt ceased the spell he had been casting and began to prepare for another. He arose from his hunched position and took in a deep breath of air, straightening his back to rise to his full height. The tip of his wand crackled with ambient energy as its owner mumbled an incantation under his breath. Hermione braced herself while Harry's emerald-green eyes widened with worry and Professor Flitwick finally managed to fully break away from his papers. Even Ron arose from his half- asleep state to see the goings on. Finally, when the energy at the wand seemed to be at its peak, Matt gave the wand a mighty swish, his right hand held dramatically to the side as his left hand swung the wand back to its original position.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Ron and Harry followed soon after, the latter nearly falling out of his chair in shock. Professor Flitwick chuckled as well, although for reasons entirely different from the three Gryffindors.  
  
"You mean to tell me you're going to break through my shield with the simplest charm in the book?" Hermione said absurdly, not even bothering to stifle her laughter. It took a good five seconds after Matt's spell before Hermione realized that something was definitely wrong. Hermione double- checked her spell in case her amusement caused it to dissipate it for the tiniest moment, only to discover that the shield remained active the entire time. She also couldn't help but notice that she was a good ten feet in the air. The bushy-haired Gryffindor finally realized why Matt had seemed so calm with the attack and nearly slapped herself for not realizing it sooner.  
  
He wasn't aiming for her. He was aiming for the shield.  
  
"The problem with shield charms is that you don't necessarily have to break through them to get to the caster," Matt lectured, trembling his left hand to make sure the spell didn't waver for a moment. "With the proper spell and enough concentration, you can take over your opponent's own shield and mold it do what you want it to do. You can deny the caster their oxygen, shorten it so you can crush the person inside it, or intensify the force of the shield until the person inside can't contain it anymore and passes out from exhaustion."  
  
"Or," Matt said devilishly as he took a seat on Professor Flitwick's desk, "you can just do this. . ."  
  
Hermione Granger, protective shield and all, was hurtled across the vast Charms classroom and crashed into the marble walls at the northeast corner of the room. The shield protecting her body from crashing into the wall itself, but the chaotic motion of the shield itself caused Hermione's body to lurch every which way. Hermione gritted her teeth and thanked her physical training for allowing her to escape this predicament with nary a scratch. Unfortunately, Matt wasn't quite done yet as he sent Hermione hurtling all the way into the opposite corner of the room at twice the speed of before. Once again, the shield protected her from any major injuries, although her ego was suffering a severe bruising as she and her shield were brought to hover several feet above Matt's head.  
  
"Here's hoping I get this right. . ." Matt said as a tiny bolt of white energy spurt from his wand to join the rainbow of energy that already surrounded it. Within moments, a continuous stream of Forcis spells were colliding with the furthest corner of the shield, essentially turning it into a mentally constructed merry-go-round. Harry couldn't help but wince as one of his best friends sent another one of his best friends on this bizarre, though disturbingly creative, carnival ride. The wild-haired Gryffindor could have sworn that Hermione's face was green.  
  
"I think I've proven my point, don't you think Ron?" Matt said as the shield started to slow down its revolutions.  
  
"Absolutely," Ron said with an even grin. He always thought that Hermione needed a comeuppance every now and then. The redheaded Gryffindor also could see that Matt could have made the ride quite a bit more dangerous if he hadn't cast a litany of additional protective spells to protect Hermione's body to make sure that she wouldn't be harmed.  
  
Harry, given his current state of mind, didn't come to those conclusions quite as easily.  
  
"Why did you that!" Harry shouted indignantly. "She could have been hurt!" If Matt didn't know any better, he would have sworn that his friend was about to hit him. Wanting to avoid any more trouble, Matt tried to defuse the situation with a simple smile and a sober look in his hazel eyes.  
  
"Calm down, Prongs." Matt said as he slowly lowered Hermione back down to the ground. "You know as well as I do that Moony's made of stronger stuff than that, and I made sure that she wasn't hurt just to be safe. Happy?"  
  
Harry had a bashful look on his face, a bit embarrassed that his own emotions blinded his own judgment. "Sorry, Matt. You okay, Hermione?"  
  
"I'm fine," Hermione grumbled, not taking her eyes off Matt as she rubbed her neck. "I suppose you've made your point, Matt."  
  
"Just call it a little humbling from one friend to another," Matt said evenly. A genuinely worried look was on his face as he asked his next question. "Are we still friends?"  
  
"Of course we're still friends," Hermione answered with a warm smile. "Nothing could ever change that after all we've been through." Matt's smile broadened quite a bit at that and gave a significant sigh of relief. In fact, he was so wrapped up in his relief that he didn't even notice that Hermione's wand was pointed straight at him.  
  
"Of course," Hermione continued. "We still have to deal with this problem of you attempting to make a fool out of me." Without another word, Hermione sent a black bolt of energy at Matt before anybody could stop her. The close proximity between the two of them didn't allow Matt any time to dodge the attack, causing it to hit him full in the chest, the force of the shot colliding with his body nearly causing him to double over. Then, with a simple poof of smoke, Matt's human body seemed to fade away and was replaced by the spiny, soft skin and body of a common porcupine.  
  
"I believe that will make us even," Hermione said coolly as she pocketed her wand. The porcupine only gave her a sour grin in response. Professor Flitwick shook his head exasperatedly while Harry and Ron both burst out with laughter at the ridiculous sight.  
  
"Nice to see your human Transfiguration spells are coming along, Hermione." Harry said as he knelt down to look at his newly transformed friend.  
  
"As a good friend of mine once said, I just needed the proper motivation." Hermione said before turning towards Professor Flitwick. "Is it all right if we leave?"  
  
It took the kindly Charms professor a while to respond. He was clearly not certain on what to say to this turn of events. "Why, why, yes of course, Miss Granger. Um, just how long is that spell supposed to last?"  
  
"Just six hours," she answered casually. "Excuse me a moment," Hermione said as she used the flat end of her tennis shoes to nudge back an advancing Matt, who appeared to be trying to put his newfound quills to good use. "We'll take care of him until he turns back."  
  
"Want to head to the Great Hall for dinner?" Harry asked as he picked up Matt's things along with his own and headed out of the classroom.  
  
"Certainly! I'm starving!" Hermione responded as she and Harry left the classroom arm-in-arm.  
  
"Come on, Matt," Ron said as he hefted Matt into his gangly arms, making certain to keep a good distance away from the quills, "let's get you something to eat." Ron stopped just short of the door before lifting Matt up to his shoulders and looking at him eye-to-eye. "I forget. Are porcupines omnivores?"  
  
'This is not funny,' Matt thought. 'This is the last time I try to help anybody!'  
  
Needless to say, the atmosphere at the breakfast just before the final task of the tournament was a bit stressed. Harry was scanning his latest letter from Sirius for the twelfth time that day; his modest breakfast remained untouched and cooling on the table. The young man wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all the night before if not for a gentle sleeping spell from Hermione. As for Hermione herself, she would paw at her breakfast and gaze at Harry worriedly, only stopping whenever Harry saw her eyes on him. Even Ron was a little loath to eat anything, choosing to pass the time instead by occasionally tapping the corners of his plate with his fork and knife. Matt would occasionally try to liven the atmosphere by giving Harry words of encouragement or telling bad jokes. He would always hush up as soon as he realized that nobody was paying any attention.  
  
While Harry's body remained on standby, his brain was yelling at him to eat. After all, Harry was about to fight for the Triwizard title and a prize of one thousand galleons. More importantly, it seemed that the mysterious maze that had been constructed on the school's Quidditch pitch seemed like the ideal place for Voldemort's spy to lay a trap for him. The smart thing for Harry to do was to eat as quickly as he could and continue to gather as much information as he could on what was ahead of him. However, realizing what needs to be done and actually getting it done were problems that anyone, muggle or wizard, could acquiesce to having every now and then. Harry's daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of a silky voice behind him, the voice's owner stressing every syllable in the hope that she wouldn't get anything wrong.  
  
"Iz it fine if we zit here?" Fleur Delacour asked. Harry turned around blearily, his unkempt hair sticking up in every direction, to look at the gorgeous half-veela and her doting half-sister, Gabrielle. The half- veela siblings were each holding breakfast trays packed with food edibles and were eager to tuck into them. Harry couldn't help but notice that ever- so-slight dark circles had formed below Fleur's magnificent eyes, although whether that was from worry about today's task or from something else. Gabrielle looked as cheerful as usual. Her sky-blue robes, luxurious silver curls, and her shining smile made her look like a miniature version of her older sister.  
  
"Go right ahead, Fleur." Matt piped up. "We could use the company." Needing no further prompting, the siblings took their seats at the table; Fleur sitting beside Harry and Gabrielle sitting next to Matt.  
  
"Hi, Uncle Matt!" Gabrielle yipped merrily, nearly bouncing up and down in her seat. The younger Delacour refused to abandon her sister after what happened after the second task and her parents allowed her to stay at Hogwarts until the third task. She had taken quite a liking to the mischievous Ravenclaw, much to Fleur's and Hermione's amusement.  
  
"Hi yourself, kid," Matt grumbled, as he playfully ran a strong hand through the girl's hair. He couldn't help but grin a bit at the young lady's enthusiasm. "Are you doing all right?"  
  
"No," Gabrielle said in a half dismal, half petulant voice that many parents of young children know far too well. "Fleur's too busy reading books an' she von't play wit' me!"  
  
"Fleur has bin bizzy with her books," Fleur retorted as she gave her sister a wry grin as she sighed wearily. "I am very happy that ze N.E.W.T's are done." The N.E.W.T.'s were the equivalent of the final graduation exam throughout all wizard schools throughout Europe. Their reputation for its excessive difficulty to adequately complete and the mind- numbing amount of time that was deemed necessary to prepare for it was quite merited. Harry felt a bit guilty that, unlike his fellow participants in the Triwizard tournament, he didn't have to take the N.E.W.T.'s. Of course, the fact that he was three years younger than Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric relieved him from this guilt quite nicely.  
  
"You've really improved your English, Fleur," Hermione complimented as she finally began to eat some of her food. "I could barely understand you several months ago, I must admit. Now, though, you're speaking English better than Ron ever could."  
  
"HEY!" Matt shouted as he turned his attention away from his scrambled eggs. "Have you been reading my Ronald Weasley joke book?" Ron was about to defend himself from his two friends but the enchanting sound of Fleur's laughter seemed to pacify the youngest Weasley brother in quite a hurry.  
  
"I am 'oping to get a job here," Fleur said as she took a sip of orange juice. "Zis castle is quite, how you say, fascinating. Quite different from Beauxbatons."  
  
"Yeah, fascinating," Ron mumbled dreamily. Matt was sorely tempted to see if he could dump his entire goblet of milk on the Gryffindor's head to snap him out of it but bravely fought back his impulse. After all, it wasn't the first time that Ron had made an ass out of himself when it came to Fleur Delacour. He was quite confident that it would happen again.  
  
"I just vanted to wish you luck today, 'Arry," Fleur said, her ivory- white teeth sparkling. "I know zat we vill be rivals today but I hope for your safety."  
  
"Oh, um, well, thanks. Good luck to you too!" Harry stammered back as he blushed slightly and took an extreme interest in his half-eaten pancakes. Hermione simply shook her head wistfully at her friend. It seemed that not even Harry could fully resist the inherent persuasive skills of a veela.  
  
"We're happy to have ya!" Matt said as he took a fork and knife from a pleading Gabrielle and began to cut up the girl's pancakes.  
  
"Then you won't mind if we join you as well," said Katie Bell. The Gryffindor Chaser had her usual cheery smile on her tanned face as she stood across from Ron. Katie's boyfriend, Viktor Krum, was standing next to her, his usual shy smile sticking out from his otherwise gruff features. Matt and Hermione both looked at each other, both of them quite taken aback by their table's sudden spike in popularity. Any argument was ceased when they both turned to Harry, who had a bright smile on his face from seeing his teammate and Krum wanting to sit next to him. It was a far cry from the somber soul who Matt had to practically carry into the Great Hall.  
  
"Why not?" Hermione said cheerfully. "Just let us make room. Move over Harry!"  
  
"I don't have enough room as it is right now!" Harry complained as Fleur slid down to the corner of the oak bench.  
  
"Why not just sit on Fleur's lap?" Matt asked. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Ron, Katie, and Fleur all burst out in laughter. Even Krum seemed to chuckle at the crude remark, a grumbling sound emanating from his throat. Harry, on the other hand, looked quite ready to hide under the table.  
  
"Do you want me to turn you into a porcupine again?" Hermione asked flatly as she sprang to her friend's defense.  
  
"No, ma'am." Matt said hastily, not wanting to be 18 inches tall again any time soon.  
  
"'ello, Harry." Viktor said softly as he sat next to Ron. Ron, who had just recovered from the shock of sitting at the same table with the girl of his dreams, was now forced back to stunned silence as he now sat next to his favorite Quidditch player.  
  
"Hi, Viktor," Harry said back as he mustered up the nerve to give Matt a sharp glare. "When's the next time we're going to play Quidditch? I was hoping we could get a game in before you and your friends left." Krum brightened significantly at the mention of Quidditch. As one of the top Seekers in the world, Quidditch was his life and whenever he talked about it or played it, he became a near polar opposite of the brooding fellow who spent much of his "ground time" in the library throughout the entire term.  
  
"Ze N.E.W.T.'s have taken much of my time," Krum said a bit glumly. "But I vill be flying ze skies soon enuff. You are velcome to join us if you wish."  
  
Harry couldn't help but grin at Viktor's offer. Between his physical and magic training and studying, Harry had spent quite a bit of his spare time on the makeshift Quidditch pitch with Krum, Katie, and the Weasleys. He had even managed to goad Matt into several games, which gave Ron an opportunity to gloat at his success of "changing" him. Harry was quite tempted to invite Cedric Diggory several times, but stopped himself when he realized that if Cedric did choose to come, Cho Chang was quite likely to follow. Despite his dwindling crush on the Ravenclaw seeker, Harry knew a potentially ugly situation when he saw it.  
  
For the next half hour, the eight young witches and wizards chatted amiably as they each prepared for what was to come. Stress just seemed to leave their minds as they each basked in the warm joys of friendship and camaraderie.  
  
Ludo Bagman interrupted the cheerful scene. Wearing the same purple and black wizard robes, the former Quidditch star had a billowing smile on his chubby face. Every now and then he would stop and say hello to a random student in a manner that would make a Muggle politician proud. He had come down with the purpose to give Harry some words of encouragement and was quite shocked to find not only Harry but also two of his Triwizard rivals seated at the same table. While Bagman fought between discreetly leaving the scene or continuing on, Matt spotted him over the throng of bustling students.  
  
"Minister Bagman!" Matt shouted, motioning the former Quidditch star to come over while staring him down with an icy glare. The memories of the pensieve were still quite active in Matt's mind. Matt could just make out an angry grumbling from Hermione as Bagman once again plastered his jolly smile to his face and moved towards them.  
  
"Why hello!" Bagman called out, his jovial voice doing an admirable job of hiding his frustration. "It seems that you've acquired quite an eclectic following, Mr. Potter!"  
  
"I wouldn't necessary call them a following," Harry said tongue-in- cheek, not really certain what to think of Bagman's appearance and a bit hesitant to ask. Matt and Hermione, of course, were not restrained by this.  
  
"I'd call them friends," Hermione said with a hint of anger in her voice. "After all, isn't the Triwizard tournament a time where witches and wizards of all nationalities should come together and draw closer?"  
  
"As opposed to engaging in more sordid activities," Matt continued, the same hostility in his voice. "Such as, oh, trading critical information. . ."  
  
"Spreading xenophobic paranoia. . ." Hermione followed up.  
  
"Gambling on the tournament," Matt chimed in while calmly sipping his milk as he held Bagman there with a steady gaze. Bagman, to his credit, kept his poker face maintained and cleared his throat.  
  
"Indeed," Bagman muttered while Fleur and Krum looked at him suspiciously. "I've just stopped by to tell you all that the champions' families are invited to watch the final task. They're waiting for you in the central hall. . ."  
  
"Mere! Pere!" Gabrielle shouted as she nearly flew out of her seat and rushed into the waiting arms of her mother and father. Fleur was shortly behind her little sister, a single tear tracing down her fine cheek as she raced forward. Meanwhile, a huge bear of a man with a massive grin and a hooked nose practically lifted Viktor out of his seat while a dark- haired woman peppered Krum's face with kisses. All three of them were shouting in Bulgarian. Katie gave a worried look to Harry, a bit frightened that she was apparently about to meet her boyfriend's parents.  
  
"Okay. Perhaps they're not waiting." Bagman mumbled, well aware that no one was paying any attention to him. Bagman could just see Cedric Diggory rising from his seat out of the corner of his eyes and embracing his own mother and father.  
  
Harry remained seated at the table watching the entire spectacle. He was quite aware that there was no family there to congratulate him. The Dursleys were certainly not going to willingly come within ten miles of Hogwarts and Harry wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing them in the first place. Harry did forget, however, that he did have another family.  
  
"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley shouted as she hugged Harry around his neck. "Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry!" Harry couldn't quite speak of his surprise, his eyes widening both from shock and a sudden lack of oxygen.  
  
"It sure beats a day at Gringotts!" Bill Weasley added with a cheery grin as he stood behind his mother as he watched Fred and George rushed up to join in the unexpected family reunion. "Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He told me that you were spectacular against the Horntail though."  
  
"What on earth are you guys doing here?" Fred asked as George hastily stuffed a copy of the latest order form idea for their prank shop in one of the back pockets of his robes.  
  
"We've come to watch Harry in the last task!" Mrs. Weasley replied as she broke away from Harry and gave the mischievous twins a strong embrace. "I must say, it makes a lovely change from cooking and cleaning. How were your exams?"  
  
"Just wonderful, mum," Fred said brightly. "A whole smattering of different grades for me. I've always enjoyed variety."  
  
"All I'll say is that I did better than he did!" George said pointing at Fred.  
  
"You did not, you dumb bloke!" Fred countered, shoving a finger into George's chest. "You're forgetting that I'm the brains of this operation!"  
  
"Gimme a break, Fred!" George argued back. "I wasn't the one whose invisibility potion didn't work!"  
  
"At least I got my teacups to dance in Charms class!" Fred shot back, both of their voices getting louder and louder.  
  
"Mine were dancing!" George shouted defiantly.  
  
"Backing up and then crashing into each other doesn't count!" Fred yelled. Mrs. Weasley gave an ever-patient sigh as the twins continued to bicker.  
  
"I'll just assume that both of you did poorly," she said as she turned to her youngest son. "How about you, Ron? How were your exams?"  
  
"I passed them all with flying colors," Ron said with a significant air of pride. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names in History of Magic so I ended up inventing a few. Other than that, I think everything went okay." Mrs. Weasley visibly glowed at Ron's accomplishments and gave the young man a hug and a kiss on the cheek that only a son could hate.  
  
"And, Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed while giving the young lady a once over. "You look positively wonderful!"  
  
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said with a slight nod. Then Mrs. Weasley moved towards her with a grin that looked as if it may have come from one of the twins.  
  
"So, how are you and Harry getting along?" the matriarch of the Weasley family asked with the tone and excitement of a gossiping teenager.  
  
"What!" Hermione shouted, quite taken aback by the question. Harry apparently heard the question as well, as he too was sputtering to defend himself. "Um, we're not dating or anything like that, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione explained while Harry nodded fervently. "Rita Skeeter was just looking for a way to get under Harry's skin. She's developed quite a bit of a grudge, I'm afraid."  
  
"I see," Mrs. Weasley grumbled, her dislike for The Daily Prophet investigative reporter quite evident.  
  
"Don't worry, ma'am!" Matt spoke up with a grin and a wave. "I'll make sure they keep their hands off each other at least some of the time." Mrs. Weasley turned to the stranger with a bemused look on her face.  
  
"Oh! And who might you be? A friend of Ron's?"  
  
"Matt McGonagall," Matt said as he stood up and extended his hand, which Mrs. Weasley shook warmly.  
  
"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley said as she racked her brain in recollection, snapping her fingers rapidly as if the motion would give her memories a kick-start. "You're Minerva McGonagall's grandson!"  
  
"That I am," Matt said as he ran a hand through his hair nervously, "though I'm not privy to make that a well-known fact."  
  
"I knew your mother and father very well, young man," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "As fine a witch and wizard there could be."  
  
"Oh," Matt murmured, quite uncertain of what to say to that. Bill, sensing Matt's discomfort, chose to change to subject.  
  
"Well, maybe we can brighten the air up with a tour of Hogwarts!" he exclaimed merrily while flipping back a rebellious strand of long red hair that escaped from his ponytail. "I haven't seen this place in years! Is that picture of the mad knight still around? Sir Cadogan?"  
  
"You bet it is," Matt said, his usual mischievous nature reemerging. "He's still a little mad at me for painting his donkey pink the last time I was up there."  
  
"Wish I would have thought of that," Fred said wistfully.  
  
"Yeah," George added. "The best you could ever do to that git was turn his picture upside down."  
  
"Sure confused his horse though," Fred said in his own defense. Their mother gave them a disappointed look, not surprised in the least that her children would pull such a horrible trick.  
  
"I wish the two of you would focus as much time on your schoolwork as you do on causing trouble," she snapped. "They would've already made the two of you prefects like Percy and Bill." At the thought of being prefects, Fred and George looked as if they smelt something awful in the room.  
  
"I don't think I could handle that kind of pressure," George said to his twin brother.  
  
"Yeah. To be able to take off points and all that stuff. You know we'd just abuse our privileges, mum." Fred added.  
  
"It's best left in more capable hands," Fred said as he jokingly patted his mother on the shoulder. "Our not being prefects is our contribution to an ordered society."  
  
"A society where we plan to cause a great deal of trouble," George pointed out.  
  
"Indeed," Fred added. Mrs. Weasley wisely chose to ignore her childrens' ranting while Hermione rolled her eyes and the others tried not to break out in laughter.  
  
"Shall we go then?" asked Bill.  
  
"Sure," Harry said as he led the way out of the Great Hall. Just as they were at the castle gates, Mrs. Weasley turned around and spoke up.  
  
"Wait a minute, where's Ginny?"  
  
Both Harry and Matt paled a bit at the question. Since Crouch's death, Ginny had mostly kept to herself, either resting in her dormitory or working in the library. On good days she would occasionally chat with her brothers but she hadn't said a word to Harry, Hermione, or Matt in weeks.  
  
"She's probably catching up on her sleep," Hermione said, a bit ashamed that she was lying to a woman that had always been so kind to her. "Final exams were a real bear for her. We'll probably catch up to her by the third task." If Mrs. Weasley saw through the young woman's flimsy fib, then she didn't give any indication.  
  
"Then I suppose we'll see her later," Bill said brightly with a shrug of his shoulders. "As for now, let's go look on the grounds. I'd love to get a closer look at the ship from Durmstrang! Charlie told me that it was a work of art and from what I saw in the air, it looks pretty impressive to me." Matt and Hermione stayed behind to say goodbye to Fleur, Viktor, Gabrielle, and Katie while Harry led the Weasleys through the campus of Hogwarts.  
  
For Harry, it was quite relaxing to spend the afternoon with the Weasleys'. Ron and Mrs. Weasley had walked beside him as he showed them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. While Molly and Bill both marveled at the sights, Harry would set his sights on the maze every now and then marveling about the sheer size of the structure and wondering just what lay inside of it. The monsters and puzzles that the Triwizard officials had placed within it would certainly be dangerous, but Harry had another reason to worry that the other champions did not. Voldemort and whoever worked for him within Hogwarts was looking for him as well. It didn't take a master detective to realize that the forest maze, which Harry learned was virtually impossible to see within from the outside, was clearly the best place for Voldemort and his spy to spring their trap.  
  
As the high noon soon gradually began to simmer and a cool summer breeze blew down from the cloudy skies, Harry tried to work out just what he was feeling. Was it fear? Possible, but not likely. To be brutally frank, Harry was quite tired of running away from his problems and his enemies, the desire to meet them head-on was stronger than he cared to admit. Then was it excitement? Not necessarily. The sheer physical and mental agony he endured during the second task had dampened the romantic aspects of the tournament. Even if Harry did emerge victorious, he didn't picture the glorious scene of pride and accomplishment that he did before. He'd be far happier when this whole business was over and done with no matter who won.  
  
'So then,' Harry thought as he and the Weasleys made their way back to Hogwarts for the final meal before the task, 'just what exactly is this?'  
  
Anticipation. That was it. Harry didn't know just what would happen within the confines of the maze, but he knew that he wished to face it. The fear and the excitement were there as plain as day, but they were overridden by Harry's desire to see just what life had in store for him. He knew the maze held that secret for him, for better or worse. The mysterious monstrosity seemed to call to him now, begging him to explore its secrets, and, in turn, to explore his own.  
  
Simply put, Harry James Potter was ready for the maze.  
  
"We shall be patrolling outside of the maze," Professor McGonagall said to the four champions. "If you get into difficulty and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air and one of us will come and get you. Do you understand?"  
  
All four of them nodded. Harry turned back to see Matt and Hermione behind him with their wands drawn, the determination in their eyes only matched by his own. Hagrid stood beside them, his round face perturbed with worry.  
  
"Good luck, Harry," Hagrid whispered as Bagman called for the champions to follow him.  
  
"We'll handle things out here," Matt said. "You just take care of whatever the hell is in there."  
  
"And be sure to send a flare if you're in trouble," Hermione added with a brief hint of worry. "It's still better if we face whatever's in there together if we can."  
  
"I don't think the Triwizard judges would approve of that," Harry said with a dry grin.  
  
"Forget them," Matt said simply. "Just focus on getting that cup so all this mess is over with." Harry gazed back to the grandstands to see the Weasley family waving to him. Fred and George were hooting and hollering like soccer hooligans while Bill and Ron cheered politely. Even Ginny was there, giving him a small smile and a thumbs-up, her eyes hollow and a bit tear-stricken.  
  
"Mister Potter," Bagman called just before he was to use a Sonorus charm on his voice. "Please join the other champions."  
  
"Good luck," Hermione and Matt both said. Harry just nodded and joined the others.  
  
"Ladies and gentleman!" Bagman called out. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Before we begin allow me to once again announce where the points currently stand! In fourth place with sixty-three points, from Beauxbatons Academy, Miss Fleur Delacour."  
  
There was scarcely little applause from the stands. However, the shining eyes of the kindly half-veela were only focused on three people cheering happily, her family's love giving her more hope and encouragement than 20,000 strangers could ever provide. Harry gave her an encouraging smile, causing Fleur to wink at him and give him a bashful smile that could have sent steam shooting from Harry's ears.  
  
"And in third place with eighty points. One of the top students at the Durmstrang Institute and captain of the Bulgarian national Quidditch team. Viktor Krum!" Quite a bit of applause to that, particularly from the Durmstrang section of the crowd.  
  
"In second place with eighty-five points, Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts!" Harry almost covered his ears due to all the applause. Cedric blushed profusely as the grandstands seemed to quiver and shake with all the commotion. Even after nearly a year of constant admiration from everyone at Hogwarts, the Hufflepuff prefect was still miffed by all the attention. Harry thought back to that stormy night when Cedric beat Harry to the snitch back in third year and the day when he found out that Cedric was going out with his boyhood crush, Cho Chang. Harry wanted to be mad at him for all of this, but Harry also thought that he had no real reason to be mad at him. As far as he could tell, Cedric was a good person who meant no real harm or embarrassment to him. The wild-haired Gryffindor gave Cedric a thumbs-up, which Diggory quickly returned with a nervous grin.  
  
"And, in first place with eighty-eight points, Harry Potter of Hogwarts!" Another roar of applause. Not quite as intense as Cedric's but still enough to make Harry blush a bit.  
  
"All right, Harry," Bagman said as he raised a whistle to his lips. "Three. . two. . one. ."  
  
Harry covered the fifty-yard path from the starting point to the entrance of the maze within seconds and was soon in the dark confines of the forest maze. According to the rules, he had ninety seconds before Cedric was allowed in so he took some time to get acclimated to the peculiar surroundings. The thick, abundant hedges cast a shadow over the normally bright green grass of the Quidditch pitch, something that somehow perturbed him. What made it even more distressing was the fact that Harry could not hear the slightest noise from the outside, although whether that was the sheer density of the leaves blocking the sound or some form of magical enchantment was uncertain.  
  
'No one can hear you scream,' Harry thought gravely as he pulled his wand out of the side loop of his belt and rushed farther into the maze. Cedric would be soon to follow.  
  
Severus Snape looked extremely bored as he paced back and forth at the southeast corner of the maze, twirling his wand with his long, slim fingers. It had been a half-hour since that idiot Potter had run into the maze and, fortunately, there was no trouble to speak of. The last moments of the summer sun seemed to beat down on his black wizard robes, the heat causing him to sweat and grumble in frustration. He was against the notion of reviving the Triwizard tournament from the moment Dumbledore first mentioned it. He felt that all the "hullabaloo" would distract the students from what they were brought here to do. Namely, to learn all there was to know about magic so that they may make the slightest bit of good in their otherwise banal existences. Now, looking at the highly festive audience and the ridiculously lavish creation that had been constructed on the normally lush and gorgeous Quidditch pitch, the potions master was only slightly relieved in his assurance of being correct in the matter.  
  
"Good evening, Professor Snape."  
  
Severus turned to see Matt and Hermione walking towards him, their eyes and bodies tense and nervous. They looked as if Voldemort himself was about to pounce on them at any moment. Snape offered a bit of a grimace in return to their greeting, which was as close to a smile as Severus would provide under the circumstances.  
  
"Have you seen anything suspicious?" Snape asked, not even bothering to look at the two of them while he spoke.  
  
"Nothing, zilch, nada," Matt responded, absently kicking the dirt. "Whatever Voldemort's trying, if he's trying anything, must be in the maze itself."  
  
"Professor," Hermione asked, "Just who was responsible for setting up the maze?"  
  
"It was a number of people, Miss Granger," Snape grumbled as he sneered at the throng of people in the stands. "The Ministry wanted to make sure that there were a multitude of people involved lest a single representative wished to favor a certain participant."  
  
"But who? Who are they?" Matt asked. Severus shot a withering glance at Matt for his impatient tone, causing Matt to shrink back a bit from the head of Slytherin house. With the slightest hint of a grin, Severus went on.  
  
"Bagman, Crouch, that oaf Hagrid, Percy Weasley, Madame Maxine, and Moody."  
  
"One of those six people could very likely be Voldemort's spy," Matt said, "but the question is who?"  
  
"Well, it certainly can't be Hagrid or Crouch!" Hermione went on. "Crouch is dead and Hagrid is loyal to Dumbledore."  
  
"Moody doesn't really look like an option," Matt said. "Why the hell would Moody spend two-thirds of his life fighting someone and just turn around and support him?"  
  
"Yes, and Madame Maxine still despises Voldemort for betraying the pact he made with her fellow giants fifteen years ago," Severus said. Matt and Hermione both looked at their teacher in shock at the news. Severus looked at them with an impatient look upon his sallow features.  
  
"Don't tell me the two of you didn't realize that Maxine is a half- giant?!" he said in exasperation. "The woman's as big as a bloody house!"  
  
"Then that leaves us with Percy and Bagman," Matt concluded.  
  
"Please don't let it be Percy," Hermione whispered as she continued to stare at the maze. "It would break Molly's heart."  
  
"Remember, Hermione!" Hermione whispered. "There may not be a spy in the committee. Dumbledore surely would have inspected each member before placing them in responsibility for the participants safety."  
  
There was a pregnant lull in the conversation after that as the three of them just stared at the imposing maze, none of them sure in the slightest of what to do. Hermione wanted to cry her eyes out, scream, dash into the maze, do something! Anything but just sit here and wait for something to happen! Matt remained down on one knee, his eyes closed and deep in thought. He couldn't help but think that he knew what was wrong, that it was something. It was like when you left the house to go somewhere and you needed to take something important with you only to realize that you left what you needed only when you got to where you needed to go.  
  
"Let's go see Dumbledore, Hermione," Matt said as he leaped back to his feet. "We can't do anything here."  
  
"Agreed," Hermione said, as she led the way back to the judges' table. "Are you coming, Professor?"  
  
"No, thank you, Granger," Snape drawled. "I believe I'll keep my all- important vigil here."  
  
"Suit yourself," Matt said with a shrug of his shoulders as he followed Hermione back to where the third task began. Severus watched them go, their lithe bodies traversing the smooth plains surrounding the Quidditch pitch as if they were born on the grasslands of the Serengeti. Snape, however, remained still as his mind tottered between perpetual worry and sheer boredom.  
  
Harry skidded to a stop as he nearly crashed into yet another dead end. The Gryffindor didn't expect to have an easy time through this task but the sheer number of ambling walls and passageways to nowhere almost threatened to drive him mad. Harry continued his near constant use of the Four-Point spell as he backtracked once again, the red beam of light acting as his compass, constantly pointing to the north.  
  
Despite his frustration, Harry was quite confident that he still had the lead in this mind-boggling race. Although all four of them were quite skilled both in the air and in the water, it was Harry that had the advantage on the ground. His physical training and his thin, wiry frame made him the perfect candidate for a foot race. The fact that Harry also had a ninety second start on his closest competitor didn't hurt his chances either. Despite his confidence, Harry was starting to feel that the maze was just nothing more than a assortment of dead ends. He and his fellow participants had also been warned to be aware of possible wizard traps and magical creatures. However, Harry had seen neither hide nor hair of a creature that was even remotely dangerous after a full half-hour within it. There were no dementors, no blast-ended skrewts, no Voldemort or Macnair ready to leap out and challenge him to a duel. No nothing.  
  
And that only worried Harry.  
  
Harry couldn't help but curse as he ran into yet another dead end. Unlike the others, there was a small hole in the roof at the top of the hedges, allowing for a purplish-orange ray of sunshine to filter into the maze. Harry took the briefest second to soak in the sudden warmth before casting the Four-Point spell once again. It appeared he had gone too far west. That left only one passageway left to explore from the intersection he had found just minutes ago. The promise of moving onward was quite appealing to Harry as he quickly ran off back into the center corridor. With a huge smile on his face, Harry once again turned his feet and returned to the three-way intersection to turn to the right direction, arriving just in time to be met by a ball of fire aimed straight for him.  
  
"Something's wrong." Matt said as he continued his frenetic pacing back and forth in front of the judges' table.  
  
"Budge up, boy!" Ludo Bagman cried, who took a risk by wrapping a thickset arm around Matt's shoulders. "I'm sure there's isn't anything in there that Harry doesn't know how to handle! The Triwizard officials have made certain that no grievous harm will come to the participants in this trial."  
  
"How reassuring," Matt said as he fought back the urge to sneer. He remembered that Karkaroff had said something similar just before the second task. Bagman, even for his complete lack of tact earlier in the day, was smart enough to realize to leave the young man to his worries. With a nervous grin, Bagman excused himself and returned to sit down at the table.  
  
Hermione, on the other hand, was trying to pry as much information about the maze as she could from Professor McGonagall. Not surprisingly, the head of Gryffindor house was supplying little, if any information that the bushy haired young woman didn't already know.  
  
"You're concern is noted Miss Granger, but allow me to stress that there is absolutely nothing to worry about. The maze was constructed by good-standing members of either this school or the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Hermione discreetly fought back the urge to scoff at the notion of Bagman or Bartemius Crouch as being good-standing members of the Ministry of Magic. "But, Professor, Voldemort must have someone within Hogwarts! That's the only way Macnair could have found a way in on New Year's Eve! It must have been the same person that put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire during the opening ceremonies!"  
  
McGonagall's eyes were wide at Hermione's mention of Riddle's name, her wrinkled cheeks now several shades paler than before. "Miss Granger! I'll have you know that Albus Dumbledore inspected the maze himself just before Professor Moody placed the Triwizard cup into the maze and has assured us that the maze has been made as safe as possible for the Triwizard competitors."  
  
As much as Hermione would have liked to be at peace with Dumbledore's approval, she knew as well as anyone that even the brightest of wizards could make mistakes. After all, Dumbledore had no idea that it was Professor Quirrel that was after the Sorcerer's Stone in their first year. If it wasn't for Harry and Professor Snape, Quirrel would have most likely gotten away with the stone and made Voldemort immortal right then and there. Though she respected the kindly Headmaster of Hogwarts more than nearly any man or woman alive, Dumbledore was only human. A human that was either revered or at least respected by every witch or wizard in Europe, but still a human.  
  
Wait a minute. . .  
  
Moody.  
  
It made all the sense in the world and yet it didn't make any sense at all. Alastor Moody was the most accomplished Auror in over a century, a man whose exploits against Voldemort was among the stuff of legends. Moody was a man of many faults, no question about it, but his loyalty to the wizarding world was known to be unwavering to the point of radicalism. He was a man that Dumbledore openly stated that he would entrust with his own life. For most people, the thought of Alastor Moody serving as a spy for the Dark Lord was simply ludicrous.  
  
For Hermione Granger, one of the most brilliant minds Hogwarts had seen in many decades, it was a wonder that she hadn't figured it out sooner.  
  
Without another word, Hermione made a mad dash towards the forest maze, barely able to register the soft footfalls of Matt trailing behind her. She could just make out a slight roar from the crowd and a belligerent Igor Karkaroff ordering them to cease their interference in the tournament. Her body subconsciously leaped to the side to dodge a Stupefy spell as she drew closer and closer to the maze.  
  
Fifty yards from the entrance.  
  
'Hold on, Harry.'  
  
Forty yards.  
  
'Stay alive!'  
  
Thirty yards.  
  
'I'm coming to help!'  
  
Twenty yards.  
  
'You won't have to do this alone.'  
  
Hermione crashed into the ground as a Leg Locker curse took hold of her. She instinctually twisted her arms to prevent from falling directly on her head or neck, a sharp pain from her right arm where she landed. She first tried to fight the curse with her own will. However, the sheer strength of the curse sank into her as if it were own heartbeat. With a swift, fraught-filled motion, she pulled out her wand from her robe and performed the counter-curse. Within less than a second, the woman known as "Moony" was back on her feet and ready to run again.  
  
A strong pair of arms wrapped around Hermione's small form and raised her into the air before she could even make another step. She struggled and spat out some very unladylike words as Matt continued to dash into the maze, zigzagging and leaping to avoid any attempts to stop him.  
  
"Don't let Harry get to the Triwizard Cup!" Hermione screamed, her normally calm voice a harsh screech from the desperation. "The cup must be a Portkey! Get to it before anyone else does!" Padfoot gave no acknowledgment as he dashed into the maze, his face flushed with urgency and worry.  
  
Hermione continued to vainly struggle against her captor, speculating just who had enough strength to hold her so steadily. She first thought of Karkaroff or Bagman, seeing as how they were closest to her before she went for the maze. However, Hermione also thought that neither of the Triwizard judges had the strength to do such a thing. Perhaps it was even Madame Maxine or Hagrid, who could have dashed down to meet her that held her tight.  
  
"Calm yourself, Miss Granger," Albus Dumbledore said calmly as he placed Hermione back on the ground, his sky blue eyes holding Hermione still. As flabbergasted as she was to see that it was an 150-year-old man was her captor, she couldn't hide her seething anger from the amiable Headmaster.  
  
"Why did you stop me!" Hermione screamed at him, a look in her eyes that would send shivers into the spines of even the bravest wizard. Even Dumbledore couldn't hide the slightest of winces before responding.  
  
"It is their place to witness the horrors within that maze, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said soberly, his eyes remaining sharp and clear. "It is not yours."  
  
"What kind of rubbish is that?" Hermione said indignantly. "Didn't you say that the three of us were linked? That we would face whatever horrors that were inflicted upon the world together?"  
  
"Indeed you are," Dumbledore replied. "But not today."  
  
Hermione did not speak, her chocolate-brown eyes seemingly fixed to Dumbledore's aged face.  
  
"You have a different role today, Miss Granger."  
  
When Harry was handed his first copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Salamander, he learned about a whole menagerie of magical creatures that he wanted no part of in the future. There were chimeras and werewolves and basilisks and manticores, monsters that had the strength of many men and magical capabilities that would put some of the finest wizards in the world to shame. Of the many creatures that Harry learned about within those now-ruffled pages, Harry never considered a wyvern to be an absurdly dangerous creature. After all, it didn't have the sheer size of the dragon, the intelligence of a sphinx, or the magical skill of a banshee.  
  
'Goes to show that I should never underestimate something I've never met,' Harry mused as he dodged another bolt of fire, a wave of heat almost slapping him in the side of the head. The fireball collided with the mysterious magic that surrounded the forest maze's interior and soon dissipated into nothing.  
  
The magical beast fluttered several feet above Harry's head, its small, leathery wings beating back gravity with each tiny flap. The creature's skin was a mixture of light and dark red hues accentuated with a crimson tail that swathed back and forth as it stared at Harry. Its short, stubby beak gave it the appearance of a nasty old man who seemed to hate everyone and everything. Its' wizened and wrinkled face, along with the snow-white eyebrows reminded him of a villain he saw in one of Dudley's old comic books, something outlandish and ridiculous yet cold and chilling at the same time.  
  
Harry's thoughts of the wyvern abruptly ceased as it spat a trio of fireballs at the Gryffindor, the sheer velocity of the attack causing the air to scream at him. Using agility honed from years of Quidditch and physical training, Harry dodged the attacks with all the poise of an Olympic gymnast and fired back with a partially charged Forcis spell. The wyvern, showing its own agility, avoided the burst of energy and came at Harry with a chilling dive. As Harry prepared to defend himself from the wyvern's sharp maw, the clever creature performed a forward flip and slammed into Harry's chest at full speed. His eyes bleary and his lungs winded from the blow, Harry sent a short and thick shower of sparks from his wand in an attempt to blind the creature. With a look of severe irritation on its sour features, the wyvern drew back its assault, a murderous look in its avian eyes.  
  
'This must have been what the spy planned for me to face,' Harry thought as he returned the wyvern's simmering glare with a stare of his own before the wyvern advanced on him once again. 'There's no way that Dumbledore or Madame Maxine would let such a dangerous creature into the maze!' Despite the numerous frightening creatures he had met at his four years at Hogwarts, only the basilisk he had met at the Chamber of Secrets could match the strength of this wyvern. The creature was so imbued with magical energy that it made using hexes upon it a near impossibility. However, what frightened Harry most about the wyvern was its sheer ferocity and skill. Every movement that the creature made, as the old cliché went, had its own purpose, and that purpose was to hurt him. Whether by its own magic or physical force, the only goal that the wyvern seemed to have was the need, the desire, to kill Harry Potter.  
  
The black-haired Gryffindor hid the desire to howl in pain as the wyvern sank its jaws into the far left-hand corner of Harry's abdomen. Harry could see his own blood dripping off the edges of the creature's beak as it hastily released its grip to avoid a counterattack. After blocking a Flipendo jynx, the wyvern soared to the roof of the forest maze and shot a stream of fire from its mouth. Fighting back the pain from his gut, Harry dove to the side to avoid the creature's strike, seeking cover within the thick, bushy inner walls of the maze. Undeterred, the wyvern soared around the grassy covering and faced Harry again before resuming its fiery assault.  
  
Harry realized that the only way he was going to win this fight was to take the fight into close quarters. The chances of the wyvern's magical attacks hitting their target would increase greatly to be sure, but at least he would have some decent offensive options. Unfortunately, Harry was having a hard time thinking of any trick he could pull off that would cause any significant damage. Dodging another vicious tail swipe from the wyvern that cut a severe portion of the thick shrubbery from its foundation, Harry cast the only spell he thought would do any good.  
  
"Sotaris transforma!" he cried, focusing all his latent magical talents into his own wand. Almost immediately, the usually firm holly wand stretched from its normal eleven inches, causing it to grow heavier in Harry's hands. A silver nimbus of energy surrounded the wand as it once again attempted to make what was thought impossible possible. Then, as if it were merely a cocoon, the wood began to peel away and reveal shiny metal underneath.  
  
What once was a simple wand had now become a gleaming broad sword. Harry silently thanked Matt and Hermione for discovering the trick as the wyvern gave him an icy glare. Fighting back the psychic backlash caused by the difficulty of the spell and loss of blood, Harry brought the hilt of the blade to the left side of his hips. It was a stance that he had seen Matt use in a sparring match with Professor Snape and he hoped that it would produce the same results as it had for him.  
  
With a machismo-laced snarl, Harry made a mad dash for the wyvern, sidestepping and leaping over any attacks that the creature threw at him. The wyvern, spurned by its own bloodlust, refused to fly out of Harry's range, seemingly determined to burn the boy where he stood. As soon as Harry had come within five feet of it, the wyvern spat yet another steady stream of fire at him. However, before it could react properly, Harry somersaulted over the lethal attack and plunged the sword into the creatures' scaly chest.  
  
The wyvern literally squawked as the sharp weapon ran through its chest cavity like a hot knife through butter, the combination of Harry's strength and the magical energy within the "sword" proving too much for even the wyvern's formidable defenses. The ferocious creature violently struggled to free himself from the sword, only causing more damage to itself as the sword's owner refused to budge. The wyvern's black blood spilt onto the dry grass of the Quidditch pitch as the life began to drain away from it. A harsh screech of pain and frustration rose from the wyvern's lungs, causing Harry to wince for the slightest moment, which was all the wyvern needed.  
  
With its dying breath, the wyvern spat another ball of fire at its slayer. The fireball glanced off the right side of Harry's face causing the young man to howl in agony. The young man with the lightning-bolt shaped scar could just make out a bloody grin on the wyvern's face, causing a wave of anger and pain to bubble within Harry's very soul.  
  
With an incoherent yell, Harry yanked the sword from the wyvern's chest and gave the creature a violent lash with the blade, cutting the creature's head clear off its' neck.  
  
'This is almost too easy,' Matt thought with a huge grin as he raced through the corridors with awe-inspiring speed.  
  
Indeed, the Ravenclaw was making excellent time as he navigated through the insanely complex structure of the forest maze. The combination of his impressive use of the Four-Point spell, his athleticism, and his desire to help his friend allowed him to travel through the maze as if he were born there. Thus far, he had only run into one slight problem within the maze; a vertigo trap that made everything seem upside down in his own eyes. Once his brain was able to convince his eyes that it was physically impossible to be in outer space, he was able to surpass the test with minimal difficulty.  
  
Matt hustled by the unconscious form of a blast-ended skrewt as he neared closer and closer to the halfway point of the maze. The placement of the burns and wounds on the skrewt's sturdy hide indicated the work of a person who was unfamiliar in the field of battle. While Matt pondered between whether it was Cedric or Fleur who did this to the ferocious creature, the skrewt began to stir from its momentary slumber, prompting Matt to exit the room without any further conflict. After putting quite a distance between him and the skrewts, Matt activated the Four-Point spell once again, enabling his wand to lead the way through the maze.  
  
After twenty minutes of running through the forest maze, Matt had grown a bit bored with the rather bland environment of the forest maze. Sure, there seemed to be plenty of traps and magical creatures to keep most people entertained, but the dank forest greens and the seemingly never- ending passageways just seemed to irritate him.  
  
Thus, you can imagine Matt's surprise when he was met by the enormous form of Macnair as he rounded another corner. His cold, icy blue eyes flashed with hatred as he hefted his double-bladed battle-axe from his massive shoulders, preparing to sink the monstrosity into Matt's flesh.  
  
Matt's fear prevented him from realizing that it made little to no sense that Macnair would be in the forest maze. After the incident at New Years' Eve, Dumbledore's defenses around Hogwarts had been updated so that even the most gifted of spies would have a great deal of difficulty getting even close to the hallowed grounds. Considering that it was Macnair himself that brought upon this need for tighter security regulations, the possibility of Macnair remaining unseen to the point where he could actively interfere with the Triwizard tournament itself was damn near laughable. However, as much as his mind screamed at him that it made no sense, the bristling form of the executioner provided him all the confirmation he needed to attack.  
  
"Stupefy!" Matt shouted as a large ball of red light shot from his wand. Although he had enhanced his skill at magic a great deal since his last fight with Voldemort's most-trusted subordinate, he was quite aware that the spell may not do a bit of good. The spell was, at best, a way to gauge his own capabilities, to test if he could stand up to someone he felt was a horrible force of nature.  
  
However, instead of blocking the spell with his battle-axe or simply letting the hex bounce off his muscular body, the blonde-haired slaughterer leaped aside in a manner that was so desperate it was almost comical. The maneuver was about as un-Macnair like as they came and Matt sighed in both exasperation and relief as his eyes finally caught up to his brain.  
  
"Riddikulus!" Matt cried as the boggart shakily rose to its' feet. There was a loud crack, almost like the snap of a dry whip, and the shape- shifter faded from sight with a simple poof of smoke. As Matt breathed in the tiniest portion of the boggart's remains, he thought back to the start of his third year, when Professor Lupin brought a boggart to the classroom. Matt had disposed of it in such a creative fashion that the memory would always cause him to grin no matter what his mood. Now, however, 21 months had passed and quite a few things had changed. The once merry prankster with nary a care in the world was becoming a man, a man with responsibilities and goals rather than wishes and dreams. The young man was still there, but the stronger, more serious side of him took more and more of him in every day.  
  
'Another test completed,' Matt thought pensively as he dashed forward to catch up with his friend. 'Although hardly with flying colors.'  
  
Harry grunted laboriously as another searing jolt of pain rose from his gut. The Gryffindor was quite fortunate that no bones were broken, although it took quite a bit of energy to stop his bleeding and wrap the wound. Not only did the effort take energy, it took precious time. Any infantile dream of hoisting the Triwizard cup in victory was taken away the moment Harry had first stumbled from the wyvern's headless corpse.  
  
However, Harry's despondence over the Triwizard tournament was quickly alleviated by a much more important fact. He had beaten Voldemort once again. The wave of relief almost seemed to wash over him as he made his way through the last portion of the maze with a slow stumble. All he needed to do was wait until one of his opponents seized the cup and he could leave this blasted hellhole. There wouldn't be any shame in losing for Harry nor did he honestly need the 1,000-galleon prize money. The Triwizard tournament had already given him enough memories and experiences, both good and bad, that he would remember until his dying days. He had made new friends, new enemies, and learned quite a bit about himself along the way.  
  
'All in all,' Harry pondered as he cast another healing charm on his battered torso, 'not too bad of a year.'  
  
Harry's thoughts about the Triwizard tournament changed quite quickly when he turned the corner and saw the Triwizard cup. The so-called "Goblet of Fire" had apparently been placed under a Reducio charm, seeing as how it was much smaller than it was the day it pulled Harry Potter's name from its depths and sent his world upside down. The gleaming chalice was giving off a dull glow within the lowlights of the forest maze as it sat on a humble, wooden plinth just eighty yards from where he was standing. Harry's haggard face soon split into a childlike grin as he started to walk as fast as his tired body could take him, the dreams of a fantastic victory dancing in his head once again.  
  
Harry's juvenile hopes were once again dashed as another figure emerged from a side pathway twenty yards ahead from him. The dark brown hair and the long legs immediately told Harry that it was Cedric Diggory. The Hufflepuff had a fair number of singes on his robes, no doubt from a battle with one of the maze's blast-ended skrewts, but he still looked to be in far better shape than Harry as he dashed for the cup. Cedric was getting closer and closer to the prize with every second as Harry began to slow down, choosing to conserve his energy.  
  
Both Harry and Diggory noticed a dark figure descending from the top of the forest maze and landing on the floor with the grace of an alley cat. Cedric was quite reluctant to come to a halt as the hooded figure blocked his path to the Triwizard cup, causing the normally even-tempered young man to develop an irritated look.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Diggory asked with a bit of a snarl.  
  
The veiled man did not respond, choosing instead to slowly remove the hood of the robe to reveal the soulless gaze of Viktor Krum. The champion of Durmstrang held his wand out at Cedric without a trace of emotion. It was Krum's eyes that frightened Harry the most. The dark, lurid pools now seemed hollow and indistinct, as if they were the eyes of a wooden doll. What made Krum's countenance even worse was the near ecstatic grin on his face. It was the same smile that Harry saw at the Triwizard Cup as Krum held the struggling Golden Snitch in his hands, the smile that Viktor would have on his face whenever he took flight and reveled in the world he truly belonged in. The harrowing combination of the empty gaze and the thorough smile only meant one thing.  
  
"He's under the Imperious Curse, Cedric!" Harry yelled as his slow stumbling turned into a brisk walk, the pain and nausea from his wounds momentarily forgotten. "Look out!" Cedric turned to his fellow Hogwarts champion with a look of utter confusion and surprise. It was all the distraction that the afflicted Krum needed.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
The sound of Cedric's screams pierced Harry's heart like shards of broken glass. Cedric covered his strained face with his hands, his long fingers tensed to a painful degree as the Cruciatus Curse worked his pain receptors to the limit. The look on Krum's face remained the same as he slowly began to increase the force behind the Unforgivable curse.  
  
Harry, who surprised himself by being as calm as he was, grunted as he quickened his pace and collided with the Bulgarian Quidditch star with a flying tackle.  
  
"If it's not one thing, it's another," Harry murmured as he prepared to do battle with a hypnotized Viktor Krum.  
  
Matt nearly tripped over the fallen form of Fleur Delacour as he continued his mad dash through the forest maze. A slight trickle of blood was sliding down the half-veela's forehead as Matt gently laid her down on her back to give her a close examination. The magical burn just above her breasts indicated that she had been hit with a Stupefy spell. Biting back the urge to "examine" the wound, Matt was relieved to find that the Beauxbatons champion was only unconscious. Her chest rose up and down slowly as her lungs unconsciously kept her alive.  
  
"Damn that Moody," Matt grumbled as he tenderly lifted Fleur off the ground in order to find a good spot to hide her from the other denizens of the forest maze.  
  
"Don't you worry Fleur," Matt said as he nestled his friend into a small corner away from the vast area that Matt had found her in, "I'll get him for betraying Dumbledore, for doing this to you, and, oh hell, I'll just get him on general principle!".  
  
The newest Marauder then removed his cloak, hastily bundled it, and placed it just underneath Fleur's head. Once he was confident that Fleur was as secure and safe as possible under the circumstances, Matt pointed his wand to the sky and shot off a flurry of red sparks. One of the teachers would undoubtedly zero in on Fleur's location and take her from the maze. Then, with a conciliatory nod to his fallen friend, Matt dashed off back into the chamber where he had found Fleur. There was no time to wait for the help to arrive, he had another friend that needed his help even more.  
  
A horrifyingly loud roar from the northwest passageway came through the corridor. It was so loud that it caused Matt's eardrums to quiver in strain. Matt froze in his tracks for the second time since he had entered the maze as he took in the sound of approaching footsteps that were far too heavy for any human to make. It seemed that Matt's worries that Fleur would have been in danger from the other denizens of the dungeon were not without merit as a hideous creature stalked into the corridor.  
  
Matt nearly whistled in admiration as he identified the monstrosity as one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended skrewts. It was not just any skrewt, however, it was the same one that Matt had used to set Rita Skeeter on fire so many months ago. Back then, it was easily the largest and most vicious of the skrewts and, judging from the look in its angry eyes, very little had changed. The skrewt was at least twelve feet long, its entire body encased in natural body armor that could deflect sub-machine gun bullets. Its entire lower body seemed to be covered in spikes, each one coated with a poison secreted from the skrewt's body that could send even the strongest wizard into delirium and shock. A long, spiked tail completed the frightening visage, the lethal appendage sliding through the thin grass of the Quidditch pitch like a snake on the hunt for food.  
  
"Any chance we can talk about this?" Matt said lightly, his arms crossed in a manner that he hoped look nonchalant.  
  
The skrewt responded with mighty swipe of its tail, the impossibly sharp point at the end aimed for Matt's heart. Matt performed a back flip that sent him soaring over the attack and closer to the creature's flank. The skrewt turned its mashed face to meet Matt's eyes and shot a ball of fire from its mouth and swung its tail back for a two-pronged assault. However, a back handspring sent Matt out of range from the tail, giving him enough time to erect a force field to deflect the fireball back at the skrewt, whose magical armor simply snuffed it out.  
  
While the skrewt continued to attempt to turn Matt into a charring cinder, the Ravenclaw would fire a Forcis hex every now and then to perturb the creature, although its sturdy biological armor deflected all of Matt's attacks with little trouble. Matt's first priority was to stay out of range of the skrewt's tail in the hopes that the creature would "blast-off" to get closer to him. If the creature did so, it would leave open its small underbelly that was unprotected by body armor, giving Matt the chance to end the fight as quickly as he could. However, it didn't seem that the skrewt was buying what Matt had to sell, choosing instead to take its time and hope that its fire attacks would bring down its prey.  
  
After a good three minutes of this ineffectual game of shot and counter shot, Matt decided to take a risk. The more time he spent here gave him less time to chase down Harry and get to the Triwizard cup. He had no idea where Moody's Portkey would lead to, but he was certain that it wasn't anywhere where Harry should be. Thus, after dodging another round of fireballs, Matt ran straight for the creature's face as fast as he could go. What he was about to plan was arguably the stupidest thing he had ever thought of, but it was the only plan he could think of.  
  
The skrewt, still unable to use its' tail on Matt, shot another steady stream of fireballs at him. Some of them bounced off of Matt's weakening shield charm while most of them Matt evaded with his fancy footwork. Several agonizing seconds of Matt's suicidal strike brought him within ten feet of the creature, which put him well into the range of the skrewt's vicious tail. However, just as Matt was about to be hit by something that would tear a brick wall into pieces, he pointed his wand to the ground, stretching his arm backwards.  
  
"Forcis!" Matt cried as he sent a fully charged force push just inches behind where he was standing. However, instead of fighting the physical backlash that came with the spell, he let the physical energy carry him, causing to soar through the air. As Matt essentially bounded over the creature, he made a short prayer that he wouldn't land in the creature's bed of spikes as he flew a good twenty feet up, traversing over the skrewt in a manner that would make any long jumper green with envy. As the inevitable force of gravity seized hold of him and began to send him back down to earth, Matt now had to make efforts to prevent from snapping his legs when he hit the floor. He brought the wand to his own heart, waiting for just the right time. If he cast the spell too soon, he would most likely be turned into a pincushion by the spikes on the skrewt's back. If he cast the spell too late, it would give the creature enough time to turn around, thus making the entire effort for nothing.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
The spell mercifully took hold of Matt about six feet above the ground, causing his once falling form to float in the air like a puppet on its strings. He broke the Levitation charm as quickly as he could, causing him to fall to the ground in a far more graceful fashion than before. Before the skrewt could turn around, Matt made a quick dash towards the approximate point where the skrewt's tail met with the rest of his body. It was the skrewt's "Achilles heel," in a matter of speaking, a fact that would only be known by someone who knew the anatomy of a skrewt inside and out. Matt didn't even bother to fight against the irony of the whole situation as he transfigured his wand into a gleaming sword and messily severed the skrewt's tail, causing the monster to shriek in pain. Like most creatures that wanted to alleviate their pain as quickly as possible, the skrewt crashed to the floor on its hind legs, leaving its underbelly wide open. Matt, now covered in sheen of sweat from his exertion, made a mad dash for the creature's front before the skrewt could respond. Summoning whatever psychic energy he could must on such short notice, Matt focused the power back into his wand.  
  
"Forcis!"  
  
The white bolt of energy caused the lower chamber's of the skrewt's heart to collapse from the pressure. The skrewt's body armor now worked against it, as the spell rebounded off its vertebrae and careened into its abdomen. Blood poured from the two gaping holes in the skrewt's underbelly as it let out a piteous howl as the strength in its hind legs gave out. The dying skrewt teetered backwards a bit before making its slow fall forwards. It seemed that the entire maze shook as the skrewt hit the ground, a slight stream of black blood seeping underneath the creature's punctured chest.  
  
The entire gruesome process, from the start of Matt's forward dash to the bloody end result, took no more than twenty seconds.  
  
Matt felt he wanted to keel over and collapse, his own adrenaline the only thing keeping him standing after the immense mental excursion he had just endured. He tried to persuade his body to keep going as he ran out of the large room through the same passageway that the skrewt had come in from, his speed now stemming from his desperation rather than his physical ability. He had just used his knowledge of magical creatures, the knowledge that made him feel special and unique from so many others, to kill something that he once fed and nurtured. Something that he cared for.  
  
Matt wondered if he would ever look at an animal the same way again.  
  
"Krum!"  
  
Harry leaped over another Avada Kedavra curse, slowly moving closer and closer to the spellbound Quidditch star.  
  
"You've got to fight this!"  
  
Another Avada Kedavra. This one flying just inches above Harry's head.  
  
"Don't let Moody control you!"  
  
A third shot. Harry leaped to the side to dodge it. The sheer force of the spell caused Harry's robes to ripple and ruffle as the curse flew past him. Harry didn't think that any amount of verbal convincing would break his friend out of the Imperious Curse, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try something. It was obvious that Moody cared very little whether Krum lived or died from the curse, judging from Krum's efforts to stop Harry. The sheer mental energy needed to cast a single Avada Kedavra, let alone three, could strain even the most gifted witch or wizard. The fact that Krum had most likely never cast such a complex spell before didn't help things either. If Harry didn't take Krum out of the Imperious curse, no matter what the means, Krum could suffer a stroke or cause his overactive neurons to "flash fry" his own brain. Krum would be another dead body on Harry's hands, on Harry's conscience.  
  
Cedric, on the other hand, watched the entire spectacle, not even moving a muscle. Harry wasn't certain whether Diggory was still recovering from the Cruciatus curse or his own fear, but it was a moot point at best. He wasn't expecting the Hufflepuff's help nor did he honestly want it. Part of this was out of his responsibility towards Viktor, but another part of it, far darker than Harry honestly wished to consider, was his own jealousy. Cedric Diggory had the one thing that Harry wanted more than anything: a loving family. A family that would look at him with snide and superior looks whenever he came across them. Amos Diggory thought that Harry was stealing Cedric's thunder, constantly crowing that his son would beat the legendary Harry Potter. Harry didn't view himself as a legend, he just wanted to be cared for, to be appreciated.  
  
And Cedric had Cho.  
  
Cho Chang, the young woman that had Harry's heart caught in her hands from the moment Harry laid eyes on her. Her exotic features made her look like something out of a fashion magazine and her rich, throaty laugh was like the richest symphony to Harry's ears. But Cedric had taken her from him, taken Cho's affections that were rightfully his. For the slightest moment, Harry pondered why he even bothered to save Cedric. With Diggory out of the way, perhaps he could win Cho's affections! Pry the joy and love that seemed to surround Cedric and draw it over to him!  
  
But then Harry thought of a mischievous Ravenclaw with hazel eyes and wavy brown hair who could make Harry laugh so hard that he'd shed tears. He thought of a lanky, red head who seemed to need so much but only wanted to be Harry's friend. There was a jolly fellow with matted black hair who risked his own freedom so that Harry would be safe and happy, a man who wanted to be the father that Harry never had.  
  
And there was a girl. A vision of pale skin, bushy brown hair, and eyes filled with compassion and caring. She wasn't beautiful, she didn't have the charming good looks of Fleur or Cho or the tomboyish energy of Katie or Angelina, but so many things about her: her wry wit, her intelligence, her pig-headed impatience, and her unrelenting will to succeed seemed to make her more stunning than any other woman he had ever met. He didn't think he'd ever muster up the courage to tell her these things, but just standing side by side with her filled Harry with happiness and spirit.  
  
Harry knew he had a family, he had happiness, and he had love.  
  
And neither Cedric Diggory or Viktor Krum should be robbed of such beautiful things.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, his wand pointed squarely at Krum. Krum's black-oak wand slipped from his sturdy grasp and soared into Harry's outstretched hand. With his instrument of destruction taken away, Krum momentarily stood as still as a statue. It was simply for Moody to instruct Viktor to kill Cedric and Harry with his wand, it was another matter altogether to subdue them with Krum's two hands. Hand-to-hand combat, particularly with someone as skilled in the field as Harry, required subtle and constant manipulation of the possessed body, something that Moody could apparently not supply. Taking Krum's wand into his left hand, Harry leapt to face Krum, who almost appeared to be dead on his feet. Harry murmured an incantation into Viktor's wand, which caused it to emit a purplish vapor that Viktor's lungs quickly and involuntarily breathed in. Harry then pointed his own wand straight at Krum's forehead.  
  
"Enervio!" Harry cried as his wand gave off a faint yellow pulse that caused the entranced Quidditch star to collapse. Much to Harry's relief, the two spells accomplished what one of them could not. The gentle sleeping vapor allowed Krum to reach a somewhat peaceful comatose state while the Enervio spell removed the effects of the Imperious curse from Krum's addled brain with no further internal damage. Krum would be laid up in the hospital for a couple days, but Harry sincerely doubted that Krum would have any real knowledge of what happened here.  
  
Cedric Diggory, however, was another matter.  
  
"I thought he was all right," Cedric murmured shakily as he slowly rose up from the ground. "I thought he was all right."  
  
"Relax, Cedric." Harry said as he continued to inspect Krum. "Someone placed him under the Imperious curse. He didn't do this willingly."  
  
"The Imperious curse," Cedric whispered, his face paling even further to make him nearly as white as a sheet. "Did you kill him?"  
  
"No," Harry barked, fighting back the wave of irritation. "He's just stunned. Send up a flare while I put him a safe place."  
  
"Point Me, you blasted stick!" Matt said as he shook his wand in frustration. "POINT ME!"  
  
The Four-Point Spell caused the wand to spin and pointed northward once again to a passageway on Matt's left hand side. Hastily wiping away the accumulating sweat on his hairline, Matt burst off in that direction. It had been 27 minutes since he had entered the maze and he honestly didn't know how much longer it would take to get to the Triwizard Cup. He wasn't even certain if Harry, Cedric, or Viktor had even gotten to it yet.  
  
There were quite a few unanswered questions, but taking the time to answer them would be taking time that Matt didn't have.  
  
"Point Me!" Matt grunted as his wand spun around again on his flat left hand.  
  
"Well," Harry said casually, as he leaned on the hedge that Krum's fallen body was now resting against. "There it is."  
  
"Yeah," Cedric mumbled, visibly battling himself and his desire to grab the cup and claim victory. Harry honestly didn't know what Cedric was waiting for.  
  
"Hurry up and take it, then," Harry said with exhaustion. "I want to get out of here."  
  
Cedric remained rooted to the spot. A good minute passed as Cedric stared from Harry, to the cup, and then back to Harry again.  
  
"You're hurt," Cedric said with a tinge of worry, indicating the bloody wound on Harry's chest and the burns on his face.  
  
"I've felt worse," Harry said truthfully, ignoring another jolt of pain from his gut. Cedric didn't seem to take much comfort in Harry's casual response, visibly wincing at the blood-soaked bandage made from a torn portion of Harry's own cloak. Cedric once again stared at the cup longingly, the goal of many months of training now before his shining, gray eyes. The Hufflepuff let out a deep breath before turning back to Harry.  
  
"You take it."  
  
"Say what?" Harry asked.  
  
"You just saved my neck," Cedric said with a combination of strain and calmness. "You're the rightful champion. You take it." Harry gave a bitter laugh at Cedric's sudden generosity.  
  
"That's not how it's supposed to work," Harry said flatly. "It's the one who reaches the cup that gets the points. You got there first. You're the rightful winner."  
  
"But. . Krum. . ."  
  
"The person who hypnotized Krum was after me," Harry said dully, now biting back his irritation. "You were the first to make it past the traps that Dumbledore and the others had sent. If it wasn't for Krum, I wouldn't have gotten even close to the cup." It took quite an effort to hide the fact that what truly stopped Harry was something that the Triwizard committee did not place in the maze, but Harry weathered it. Harry wanted nothing more than to get out of this horrible place and eat some food, take a long bath in the Prefects bathroom, and get some rest. Heaven knows he deserved it. Unfortunately, the kindly Hufflepuff across from him didn't know that.  
  
"No," Cedric said. Harry could visibly see Cedric's resolve crumbling before his tired, emerald eyes. The aggravated and impatient scowl on Harry's face was now clearly evident.  
  
"Whaddaya mean no! Take the blasted cup!"  
  
"Go on," Cedric said firmly. The prefect's face was set and stern, his arms harshly folded around his chest. Harry could see the frustration and conflict boiling inside Cedric's head, he could see just how much Cedric was willing to sacrifice his own glory to repay his debt to him. It was the most blasted endearing thing that Harry had ever witnessed. Cedric was essentially turning his back on an achievement that would bring honor and glory to his family name for hundreds of years. It was the most endearing thing that Harry had ever witnessed.  
  
With a slow stumble, Harry walked up the short stairway to the plinth that was holding the Goblet of Fire. The visions of victory and pride nearly caused his heart to swell as his left hand reached closer and closer to it. Then, just as Harry was about to do something that he could tell his grandchildren about, something that would turn him from a child legend to a proud young man, he realized something.  
  
He couldn't do it either.  
  
"Both of us," Harry said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We both take the cup at the same time," Harry said, stunned by his own excellent idea. "We'll make it a Hogwarts victory."  
  
Cedric could hardly believe his ears.  
  
"You. . . you're sure about this?" Harry turned to Cedric and firmly nodded his head.  
  
"It's the only right thing to do," Harry said with a slight grin. "I don't want one-half of Hogwarts loving me and the other half hating me. Know what I'm saying?"  
  
Even the dirt and ash on Cedric's face couldn't hide the glowing smile on his face. "Yeah," Cedric said slowly, "I'm getting tired of getting the evil eye from the Gryffindors." Both Harry and Cedric, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, chuckled at their mutual struggles as Cedric nearly skipped up to the steps leading to the plinth. Within moments, Cedric stood side-by- side with Harry, both of the Hogwarts champions looking at the Goblet of Fire with wide eyes.  
  
"On three?" Harry asked.  
  
"On three," Cedric replied. "One. . . two. . . three."  
  
"HARRY! CEDRIC! DON'T!" Matt screamed as he emerged from the same passageway that Cedric had come from. Both of the champions turned to Matt with a worried glance just as they both grasped a handle. The goblet glowed white as the effects of the Portkey took a hold of them Whatever remained of Harry and Cedric's physical bodies inside the forest maze tried to pry their hands from it but to no avail. Seconds later, there was no trace of them at all.  
  
"Dammit!" Matt yelled as he pointed his wand at the plinth and braced himself for his next arduous task. "Temporal summonis!"  
  
Matt's already worn wand glowed purple as whatever temporal energies which remained from the Portkey's magic began to collect and form. Using every ounce of energy Matt had left, he kept his wand pointed at the focal point of the portal, not wavering in the spell for the slightest moment. Without a second thought, Matt dived into the nexus, the temporal energies from the Portkey enveloping him just as the portal collapsed on itself.  
  
Matt landed flat on his face, every muscle of his body complaining loudly at him to stop his ceaseless straining. Before he could even bother to move, Cedric had carefully grasped the scruff of Matt's robes and lifted him to his feet. Matt gave him a slight nod of thanks as he spat a small wad of black soil onto the ground.  
  
"What's going on, Matt?" Harry asked, his wand at the ready and his eyes glaring into the darkness. Matt, the physical wear and tear finally beginning to show on his features, went into a coughing fit and almost fell down to his knees in exhaustion.  
  
"It's Moody!" Matt gasped, his left hand clutching his heart. "Moody's the traitor! He replaced the Goblet of Fire with a Portkey to bring you here! It's a-"  
  
"Kill the spares," a high, cold voice said.  
  
"Trap. . ." Matt mumbled as a blast of green light blazed towards him.  
  
Man! It's been a while since I've wrote any action! Thought I may have lost my touch!  
  
Once again, I'd like to thank my readers and reviewers. I apologize that it's taken so long to update and I hope I haven't disappointed you with this. As for the inclusion of another cliffhanger, well, it's what we writers do (laughs maliciously).  
  
On a side note, one of my reviewers said that he was going to look for any other Harry Potter stories. Seeing as how that there isn't any other stories, I might as well tell all of you what I plan to do once this cute little novel is completed. I don't plan on to start writing the fifth-year installment until about February (although I've got the basic schematic for the plot in my head already). I'm one of those writers that like to focus on one project at a time so I don't get distracted. I'm planning on writing two novellas before then. One of them is going to have Harry, Hermione, and Matt travel to Durmstrang to deal with the fall out of Igor Karkaroff's departure while the other will be a crossover piece that will have our three lovable Marauders team up with some very underused characters in the fan fiction universe (No, I'm not saying who! Where's the fun in that?). I also plan on writing an outtake reel of "Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery". It's been a long time since I've done a strictly humor piece and ideas about it have been popping in my head ever since I finished the first chapter. I've also got plans for a fictional "web chat" with Harry, Hermione, and Matt along with a special guest and a possible series of MSTies starring the new Marauders along with a very unfortunate Peter Pettigrew. Of course, whether I get to these side adventures or not is another story, but do plan on seeing some more stuff from me very soon after this saga comes to a close. Speaking about the saga, how about the next chapter preview. . .  
  
It looks like Cedric, Harry, and Matt are in the fight of their lives as the three of them attempt to prevent the revival of the greatest threat to the wizarding world in five centuries. But will there efforts all be for naught? And what about Hermione and Alastor Moody? Will Moony be able to catch up with the traitorous Auror? Get ready for a fight! Matt against Macnair, Hermione against Moody, and Harry against Voldemort himself in the thirteenth installment of Harry Potter and The Scholar of Mystery. . . A Dark Revival. Don't miss it! 


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